Between Moonlight, Dogs, and Being Heard

Daily miles: 32.39 | Total miles: 11,388.81

I got up at 6am. The usual routine, and out of the van by 7am. It was still dark, and the full moon hung in the sky with a beautiful corona around it. For the first two and a half miles, I ran carefully in the dark, alert, not wanting to be surprised by any dogs coming out of bushes. It was wonderful to run like that—just me, the road, and the moon. I really enjoy that calmness in the early morning.

As the moon slowly set behind the hill to my right and the sun began to rise on my left, the world brightened and I felt safer. After about six miles, I passed an image that somehow fit my current days perfectly—although, once again, I think it was a lion and not a dog.

At mile 12, the worst dog encounter so far happened. A dog to my right started barking wildly behind a fence—already loud and frightening—when suddenly I saw three dogs coming out of a field on the other side of the road, running straight toward me. I whistled loudly and held my hand out, which made them stop briefly. Then they circled me, barking, not looking friendly at all. I hoped a car would pass and stop. I couldn’t really go forward or back, so I tried to stay calm and slowly moved to the other side of the road. Eventually I managed to pass, though one dog followed me for a while. I was very uneasy, but I kept moving.

At mile 20, my sister showed up. We took a short break and had a short chat about everything that was on my mind. Then off I went again for another seven miles. More dogs along the way—some barking wildly on leashes, some lying calmly, some barking but staying where they were. It’s always a mix.

At mile 27, when I saw my sister again, I already knew she would prepare a coffee. As soon as I got into the van, I started sharing everything that was on my mind. At one point she said my head must hurt from thinking so much. We laughed—this is one of the ways we’re different. What matters is that she lets me talk and really listens. Sometimes all my thoughts spilling out feel almost comical, but being able to air them makes a difference.

As you can see in the picture, while I talked, she quietly prepared coffee. That simple act made me feel heard and safe. After a good shot of caffeine, I felt ready for the last miles—physically, but also mentally. I had said most of what I needed to say.

There was an underlying sadness with me today. Nothing dramatic, nothing to fix. I just let it be there. Some days it’s enough to acknowledge what’s present without trying to change it.

We passed two lakes in the morning, and the third lake was where we planned to park for the night. When I arrived in Agios Vasileios, I felt content and ran down into town. A few more dogs to pass, but all was fine.

Back in the van, I didn’t feel like going out again—there were millions of tiny flies everywhere. So I showered, had a great dinner, and now I’m ready for bed.

Thank you, oldhouse, for listening, for making me laugh, and for doing all this work—it’s incredible. Thanks for checking in.

See you tomorrow, Andrea