Running Through Light and Shadow

Daily miles: 25.24 | Total miles: 9966.95

I got up at 6 a.m., knowing it would be a shorter day — just around 25 miles. A beautiful sunrise glowed over the balcony, and I savored my morning coffee before packing up. It took me a while to get going; I was dallying, moving slowly through the quiet morning. Just before 8 a.m., I finally stepped outside, the sun already shining warmly.

The first stretch led me along the waterfront — well, almost. There was some traffic between me and the sea, but still, it felt freeing to run with the ocean beside me. The sidewalks here are shared by pedestrians and cyclists, so it’s a gentle dance of sharing narrow spaces. The layered mountains in the morning light looked spectacular, and as always, I crossed countless rivers glimmering under the sun.

The last ten miles took me onto another road, and I wondered how safe it would be for me and my buggy. The path narrowed, the road climbed uphill, and soon I found myself standing before a tunnel — dark, long, with no shoulder, and heavy, fast traffic. There was no way around it. I switched on my headlamp (worn backwards so cars could see me), waited for a break in traffic, and then — ran for my life.

Those are the moments when adrenaline takes over — you think of everything and nothing at once. I could see the end of the tunnel glowing faintly ahead. I pushed hard, reached the exit, and threw myself into the bushes at the roadside, safe and shaking. My heart was pounding, but I carried on, hugging the edge of the road and staying as visible as I could.

With only five miles left, my nerves were frayed. I searched for an alternative and found what looked like the old road running parallel to the main one. It turned out to be very steep — the kind of climb that made me think of Chile. Every step demanded focus and strength, my legs and arms trembling by the top. Sometimes, this world run throws challenges at me that feel overwhelming. But I remind myself that I’ve faced tough moments before — and I keep going.

At the top, the road finally turned downhill. Relief. I passed Kasuga Shrine and stopped by a magnificent Japanese cedar, or Sugi, known locally as “Taki-no-sawa no Ipponsugi” — the haunted cedar. I love trees deeply — especially redwoods — and this one had the same timeless beauty. (And yes, if you’ve ever wondered: I’m absolutely a tree hugger.)

The sun was still shining warmly as I passed through small villages. Elderly people sat outside their homes; one woman sat on the ground, and we shared a few words. Simple, human moments like that always stay with me.

Tonight, I’m sleeping in a box — literally. My hotel is made up of small container units, each its own little living space. After a shower and some food, I feel grateful, tired, and grounded again after a challenging day.

See you tomorrow, Andrea