Rolling Forward into the Noise

Daily miles: 30.86 | Total miles: 12,471.28

6:00 a.m. Cold coffee. Getting dressed. Packing up.

By 7:00 a.m., I was ready to run.

I knew this would be one of those monotonous stretches. Long highway. Fast, heavy traffic. Narrow shoulder. The kind of run most people would probably avoid. And yet, I was in good spirits exactly because of that. Sometimes I like these days. When the road is wide enough to allow me to move almost continuously. When I don’t have to stop every few minutes for oncoming trucks squeezing me out. When I can simply get into a rhythm and roll.

Not many people would say they enjoy running alongside so much traffic, cars rushing by so close. But every now and then, I do. There is something grounding about it. The noise becomes steady. The movement becomes constant. And I remember all the hundreds of roads I’ve already run on during this journey — mountain passes, gravel tracks, coastal promenades, dusty plains, city chaos, silent countryside. By now, I have experienced almost every road condition one can imagine.

And still, each road asks something of me.

One thing this run constantly teaches me — something people might not always consider — is how often I have to simply go forward and face whatever is in front of me. There are countless small situations every single day that require me to confront hesitation, fear, anxiety, or doubt. A narrow shoulder. A blind curve. A barking dog. A confusing intersection. A long, exposed stretch with nowhere to hide.

It might sound like that gets easier with time.

Sometimes it does.

But not always.

What changes is not that fear disappears — it’s that I’ve learned I can move with it. That I can acknowledge the inhibition, the worry, the tightness in my chest… and still take the next step. This run keeps reminding me that progress often simply means confronting what’s ahead and figuring out how to deal with it.

So today I ran toward fast, heavy traffic — but with a light heart and mind.

The first two hours were sunny. The light was soft, almost generous. Later the sky turned overcast, but it stayed dry all the way until I reached the hotel. A small gift.

Along the road I met a shepherd, quietly tending to his flock — such a contrast to the roar of engines. Later, in a small town, schoolchildren were walking home. When I greeted them in English, many smiled widely. Some boys were eager and loud, curious and excited.

“Are you a tourist?”

“Where are you from?”

Their energy carried me for the last miles.

In town, I stopped at a small pizza shop and bought a piece of spinach börek. In front of the store, a bicycle was parked, ready for deliveries. Ordinary scenes. Everyday life. And me, just passing through, one stride at a time.

The view from my hotel room tonight isn’t particularly beautiful. But the room itself is perfect for what I need — a place to rest, to reset, to prepare for tomorrow.

30.86 miles closer. Still moving forward.

Thank you for checking in. Andrea