Cold, Wet, and Unexpected Kindness

Daily miles: 24.8 | Total miles: 10,346.28

I woke up knowing it was going to be a cold run. I enjoyed a hot coffee, packed up, and headed down to the lobby just after 7am. There I met a saxophonist who expressed his admiration not through words, but through vocal sounds—his enthusiasm made me smile. A vibrant start into the day!

Outside, it was a grey, chilly morning—but dry… for about a mile. Then the rain arrived. Real rain. Within minutes I was soaked through. “It’s a short day,” I reminded myself. “Just a few hours of being cold.” At one point the downpour became too much; I ducked beneath the roof of an open garage, watching sheets of rain fall while I stood there shivering, trying to maintain a positive mindset.

A car pulled in—the owner of the house. He looked me over, buggy and all, and although it was too wet for me to pull out my phone for translation, I gestured that I would move on soon. He disappeared inside and returned… with an umbrella. Very kind. I tried to explain that I can’t run with an umbrella, but I don’t think that came across. Still—his gesture warmed me.

When the rain eased, I continued on. I crossed bridges, followed the river, and ran through thick foliage. The views were still stunning, even in muted greys. There were campers along the river—tents pitched despite the weather—framed by beautiful mountains. I watched my footing carefully, balancing between slipperiness and wonder.

At one point, thunder boomed—except it wasn’t thunder. It was military jets…and they were loud. This went on for a while and it shook the valley.

Around the halfway mark, a garbage truck pulled over. The driver handed me a canned coffee—and it was warm! I drank it gratefully and imagined being in a heated room. That helped.

Later I passed a house without a roof—somehow fitting, given the rain. The final section took me through fields with huge puddles and mud. I used the puddles to wash off my wheels—and my shoes—after each muddy stretch. Practical improvisation.

Arriving in town, just before crossing the bridge, I saw a military convoy—tanks and special vehicles rolling in. I wondered what it was about—but honestly, I decided I’d rather not ask. Likely routine training.

I shopped for food—definitely more challenging here than in Japan—but I found enough to make it work. I walked up to the hotel I planned to stay at, but it looked closed. Farther up the hill another hotel had lights on. I entered and got a room.

I’ll admit—I was a bit unfriendly at first. I was cold, hungry, tired. But I later went back and apologized to the man I’d been short with. He laughed kindly and seemed to appreciate it.

Now—after a hot shower—dinner was rice with mushroom soup poured over it like sauce, and a yoghurt. Simple, warm, grounding.

Ready for tomorrow. Thanks for checking in. Andrea