A New Day

Daily miles: 27.49 | Total miles: 7,525.07

My alarm rang at 6:10am. I had a coffee, packed up, and was out the door by 7am. Overnight rain had left puddles everywhere, but the forecast promised dry skies until around 10am. The plan was simple: cover as much ground as possible before the rain arrived.

After yesterday’s difficult day, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel. Part of me wondered if I had somehow “unlearned” how to run. At the same time, I knew I’ve been doing this for months now—day after day. It’s strange how the mind still lets doubts creep in, even when you know better.

But as soon as I settled into a rhythm, I felt free again. Running is freedom for me. The sky was blue, the sun was rising behind me, and though it wasn’t warm, it felt comfortable—especially compared to yesterday’s battle. My legs were fresh from the extra walking yesterday, and I pushed along with hardly any stops.

Until mile 19.

That’s when the rain came, big heavy drops—and at the exact same time I noticed a flat tire on the buggy’s left wheel. No wonder, with all the broken glass scattered along the road shoulder. It always baffles me why people toss bottles out of car windows, leaving sharp shards that can wreck tires—or cut shoes. I often find myself dodging pieces, almost “flying” to keep both myself and the buggy safe.

I hoped I could get away with just inflating the tube and fixing it later in my room. Luckily, it worked—I only had to pump air every 3 miles, and the wheel held up until I reached Keith. The rain soaked me for a while, but then eased off.

By the time I rolled into town, cold but happy, I felt great knowing a hot shower wasn’t far away. At the supermarket, I met Kimberly, and then outside I chatted with Jenny, Colon, and a few others. After hours of solitary running, those conversations always mean so much—they fill me back up.

At the Keith Hotel Motel, Tony greeted me with warmth and generosity, even offering a discount after hearing my story. Thank you, Tony.

Now I’m resting, catching up on work, and reflecting on how different today felt compared to yesterday. That’s the rhythm of the road—no two days the same, but each one teaching me something new.

Be well, Andrea