Crossing Borders, Letting Go

Daily Miles: 34.32 | Total Miles: 13,689.77

I already felt it yesterday—a slight cold creeping in. A blocked nose, a scratchy throat. Still, the routine continues. Cold coffee, checking the route, packing my things and bringing everything downstairs.

Before I left, Carlo offered me a freshly ground and brewed coffee. Even with a blocked nose, the smell reached me. It created one of those quiet, perfect morning moments.

Stepping outside, the sky was overcast, but the sun was trying to break through, painting soft colors across the horizon. Right at the start, I met two cyclists. Then the road led me up, climbing out of Ospedaletti. The houses were beautiful, surrounded by carefully tended gardens full of plants and flowers. And as always, the higher I climbed, the wider the views opened. Even early in the morning, it was already breathtaking.

Later, I ran down into a small area with murals that made me smile—little unexpected moments along the way.

In Ventimiglia, I got lost for the first time that day. I ended up at the port, running into a dead end surrounded by superyachts. I stood there for a moment, looking at them, wondering who would want something like that. And yet, later in the day, I would pass luxury cars and so many shops and ask myself the same question again. It’s hard for me to understand —but maybe that’s just not my world.

I asked Simone for directions, and he kindly showed me the way out. Another climb followed, another view, and somewhere along the way I had my last Italian coffee before heading toward the border.

There was no real border—just a sign. The same quiet transition also in and out of Monaco. I like that.

Crossing into France felt simple, almost symbolic. A quiet transition. I stopped for another coffee—this time at double the price—recharged my phone, and continued toward Monaco.

I didn’t really know what to expect, but now I would describe it as a collection of high-rises built into the hills along the coast. Impressive, but not my place. I got lost again, ended up in a tunnel, and tried to figure out how to continue toward Nice without going somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be.

Eventually, I found a way—but not before the police showed up. They had seen me on the cameras and stopped me for a moment. I explained that I had gotten lost and was trying to find the correct route. After a short conversation, they let me continue.

By then, I was starting to feel tired. The sidewalks were narrow, the climbs steep, and pushing the buggy became harder. One of the wheel bearings kept making that constant noise, adding its own rhythm to the day.

I also realized I hadn’t downloaded the offline map for Nice, so suddenly I felt a bit lost again. The traffic was heavy, some drivers not very patient, and people passing by didn’t really engage.

And yet… I noticed something.

Day 456—and none of it really got to me. I saw it, I registered it, but it didn’t disturb me the way it might have at the beginning of this journey. This run has taught me something simple but powerful: not to get worked up about things I can’t influence. To stay with myself, no matter what’s happening around me.

That realization alone feels like progress.

I found a hotel, asked if I could use their Wi-Fi for a moment while having a coffee, downloaded the map, and called a hostel in the city center. Then came another steep climb—one last push before the end of the day.

From the top, it was all downhill. I stopped for groceries along the way and took a moment to look out over the coast, Nice stretching out below me in the evening light. A beautiful ending to a long day.

At the hostel, I unpacked what I needed, parked the buggy, and warmed up some rice. Dinner was simple: rice and beans. A shower, finishing up my socials.

My nose is still running. My throat still scratchy. I’m sharing the room with three other women.

Let’s see what tomorrow brings.

Thanks for checking in, Andrea