Walking Through the Storm

Daily miles: 32.74 | Total miles: 11,573.30

I got up, had a cold coffee, and stepped out into the dark just before 7am. I knew it would be a mountainous day, and the forecast made it very likely that rain would arrive in the second half. I started walking with my headlamp on reverse, moving quietly through the early morning.

It was a peaceful start. The moon was still up, only a few cars passed, and the temperatures were warmer than expected. I felt fully present, deeply aware of how special this journey is. After skirting around the town of Farsala, the road began to lead toward the mountains. To my right, from early on, I could see a huge grey cloud—already forming into what looked like a dark wall of rain waiting its turn.

The morning was windy but still dry. I passed a vast solar panel field and waved at some workers, who waved back. Moments like that always make me smile. Not long after, I passed a dog behind a fence that clearly would have mangled me if it could—fortunately, the fence did its job. Walking into the wind was tough, but in the distance I spotted a rainbow, which felt like a quiet reassurance.

At mile 13, my sister came cruising along. I was still in good spirits—windy, yes, but dry. The rain, however, was clearly not far away, so I asked her to wait again in about five miles.

Around mile 15, the rain started, right as the road turned uphill. I actually enjoyed the uphill walking at first—it warmed me up. When I reached the top, in a small town, my sister was waiting with a hot coffee prepared. But I knew if I stopped and got into the van, I would never come out again. So, disappointing her a little, I asked if she could meet me again in another three miles.

From there on, things turned rough. The rain poured, the wind became gruesome, and I grew ice-cold. My shoes filled with water, my feet hurt with every step, my gloves were soaked, and my fingers were numb. I swung my arms continuously, just trying to keep some warmth in my body. All I could focus on was walking—three more miles, somehow. I didn’t know how I would warm up, but I trusted that I would.

At mile 22, my sister was there. I climbed into the van completely soaked and shaking. She helped me out of my gloves and shoes, and I stripped off every wet layer. Wrapped in a towel, then a dry shirt, my warm jacket, and even my sister’s hat and wrist warmers—yes, the ones I usually make fun of—I slowly started to thaw. She turned the heater on full. She said it felt like summer in there, while I was still trying to warm up. We shared some bakery treats, and after about 45 minutes, I stepped back out again—dry, warm, and ready for the remaining 8 to 10 miles.

At first it only drizzled, manageable and calm. Then another uphill section began, and with it the rain picked up again. It got cold once more, though nothing like before. The sky grew darker and more dramatic, almost frightening, but also incredibly beautiful. Walking through the mountains, watching the clouds form and move, felt wild and free.

The last two to three miles felt almost surreal—like an end-of-the-world scene. I walked downhill, light despite the exhaustion, taking it all in.

Once I reached the van, we got gas, found a place to park, I showered, and we ate a wonderful dinner. Now I’m sitting with a coffee and should head to sleep soon.

Today was cold, wet, and deeply uncomfortable for several hours.

And now, I’m warm—and very grateful.

Thanks for checking in.

See you tomorrow, Andrea