The Road That Teaches What Matters

Daily miles: 23.25 | Total miles: 7,282.78

I woke at 6:30 a.m., knowing today wouldn’t be a long run. The place where I’d slept was so comfortable, I could easily have stayed another day — but the road was calling. My goal was simple: move far enough to land in a spot from which I could set up the next stage of the run.

Coffee, a bagel, packing up — the familiar rhythm. Just as I was about to leave, turning the corner onto the street, I saw Dora again, a small and welcome surprise.

The morning was cool, damp, and drizzly as I started along the old Melbourne Road — a winding, historic route with a certain quiet charm. After about seven miles I reached the small town of Gordon, chilled from the combination of sweat under my rain jacket and the cold breeze cutting through. I reminded myself not to tense up; this kind of weather can trigger muscle issues for me. Every so often I’d shake out my arms and shoulders, keeping the body loose.

In Gordon, I spotted a café with a sign reading We Are Open. I hesitated. Should I stop or keep moving? A man named Philip stepped out and asked if I wanted a hot coffee. I thought, No — if I stop too long, I’ll get cold… and then I’ll have to pee in the drizzle. But curiosity won.

Stepping inside, I instantly knew I’d found a special place. The creative spirit was everywhere — different rooms, each with its own theme, each sparking thought and conversation. In the bakery section, I met Sali and Scott, two warm, kind, and deeply inspiring people. They loved hearing about my run and offered me a flaky, rich baklava and some Turkish delights — tiny sugar-packed treasures perfect for future miles.

We sat together for a short while, exchanging stories. The café’s atmosphere and their kindness left me feeling lighter, energized in a way no caffeine could match.

Back outside, the air felt even colder, so I ran partly just to warm up again. At one point, the weather eased, but I was still stuck in that odd mix of hot-and-cold that comes from running in wet clothes. I looked forward to peeling off my soaked shirt at day’s end.

The last few miles into Ballarat felt good — steady, relaxed, and strong. First stop: the grocery store. Second stop: a hotel. Jing at the front desk kindly offered me a small discount, and we both appreciated the compromise.

Once in my room, I cranked on the heater, unloaded the buggy, and decided to take a short walk around town. Ballarat is a pleasant city, with a mix of history and bustle. I visited three bike shops in search of replacement tires for the buggy — no luck, but no urgency either. It was nice to wander in the sunshine, pushing the buggy almost empty and noticing how effortlessly it rolled.

By late afternoon, I returned to the hotel for the usual evening routine: check-ins, food, organizing gear, and finally, rest.

Thanks for coming along for another day. Be well, my friends.