The Cold, The Rain & The Warmth of People

Daily miles: 23.77 | Total miles: 10,401.95

I got up at 6am and stepped out just after 7am. I knew the rain — or maybe snow — would arrive early, so I was prepared for a cold one. The moment I walked outside, I could feel it coming. The air had that freezing clarity… the smell of approaching snow.

I first ran along the road back to the river. At mile 4, a thin drizzle began — icy rain. I had a few steep hills ahead of me, and I was hoping they wouldn’t become slippery. The first incline came soon enough — it was steep but manageable, and thankfully my shoes held good traction.

At mile 11, the sky fully opened. Within minutes, I was soaked from head to toe — drenched, freezing, and pushing through it. By mile 18, I couldn’t think of anything except warmth — especially my fingers trapped in soaked gloves and my feet, soaked and macerated. I found a covered outdoor gym area, stepped underneath, and stood there shaking as I looked for a closer place to stop for the night. I still had two days to cover what remained, and the forecast promised cold but at least dry conditions ahead. So I found a hotel about 5 miles away and decided to shorten the run today.

At mile 20 — a miracle! — the sun broke through for the first time. I even saw my shadow. I wasn’t warm, but I wasn’t painfully cold anymore. A welcome shift.

A little further on, I met two elderly women — one 80, one 90 — walking the path. One of them lit up when she saw me. Their English was limited, but their joy was clear. They couldn’t grasp the distance of my journey, nor that I was doing it alone, but they found it fascinating. A passing man joined our exchange, and soon it was four of us sharing momentary connection. But then I had to say, “I really need to run on — I’m so cold.” We parted with warmth and laughter.

The sky looked promising again and I briefly thought I might return to my original plan and run all the way to my intended destination. When I passed through the nearer village, I stopped for groceries — just a small practical moment, trying to lighten the mental load later. But when I came back outside — the rain had returned with full force. Downpour, round two.

That was it — I made the call:

Enough running cold and wet. Early stop.

I was soaked again within minutes. I reached the motel my navigation showed — but it looked abandoned. Garbage by the entrance, no lights, no signs of life. I stood there in the pouring rain, shivering, and tried to find any possible access. I parked the buggy in the rain and stepped into the attached café — but there was no staff, only one customer staring into a cup. After waiting, I stepped back out and went to another motel nearby, only to find confusing signage I couldn’t read. It smelled like food — but was it a motel? I asked a man and he motioned “second floor,” but the first elevator didn’t work and the second seemed impossible with the buggy.

Cold, wet, and frustrated, I almost decided to just run the additional 10 miles to my original target. But something in me said: Ask again in the first motel.

So I did.

This time a young man in the café said, “Yes, here — follow me.”

There was a hotel — with a self-check-in machine. He allowed me to pay him directly and gave me a room before the 4pm check-in time. He then led me to a hidden back entrance I would have never found — where I could bring in the buggy.

I was dripping wet — and so was the buggy. I had to stand it up vertically to fit in the elevator. But when the doors opened on the 5th floor, the lights glowed in warm colors, and the ambience instantly soothed me. Inside the room, the heater was already on. It felt like a tiny miracle.

I jumped into the shower — the water was warm rather than hot — but honestly, it still felt wonderful.

I’m relieved that the last two days in South Korea look to be cold and icy… but dry. That’s all I ask for now.

Thanks for checking in, Andrea