Dancing with the Mistral

Daily Miles: 21.69 | Total Miles: 13,915.19

Cold coffee, packing, a short breakfast downstairs—and before 8 a.m. I was ready to roll. But the very first step outside the hotel said it all. In that single moment, I knew: another very windy day. The wind hit me straight through my clothes, cold and forceful. Everything becomes harder in those conditions—handling the buggy, organizing gear, even just standing still. It felt like I was already ice cold before I had even started.

Still, I told myself I had strategies. Why not take it easy, adapt, and give it my best shot?

Even preparing to run turned into a challenge. The buggy tried to roll away on its own, I had to bundle up quickly, and I didn’t even take a picture before leaving. The wind was already too strong, too present. It was one of those days where everything requires more effort.

Alright, Mistral—I was ready to dance. To accept, to reframe, to do whatever it takes to make the day manageable.

And yes, once again I realized how much we can endure. Even when it’s painful and uncomfortable. Pain is a fact—but suffering is optional. Could I hold onto that mindset? For moments, yes. But then I would slip back into complaining, even if I didn’t want to.

There was one sentence that stayed with me all day. I must have said it a hundred times: “This is ridiculous.”

Ridiculous to be out there. Ridiculous to walk against that wind. Ridiculous to push a buggy into it. From the moment I stepped outside, I kept repeating it to myself—until, finally, I reached a more sheltered stretch near a quiet roadside spot. A small pause. A breath.

But there was nothing to do except keep going.

At halfway, I stopped in Saint-Martin-de-Crau for an espresso and a short exchange with Paco, a bus driver. Then, back out into the wind. The last 10 miles were all walking. There was no running today. Just patience, acceptance, endurance—one step at a time, moving forward.

When I finally arrived in Arles, I found the hostel closed. Of course. So I waited, found a place to sit, did some work, and after about two hours I could finally check in.

Jael showed me around, and soon after I met Sonko, a Kung Fu fighter from Gambia. Without hesitation, he offered me a melon. We sat together, each with our own small melon, sharing a simple moment and a bit of our stories. On my way upstairs, I met Helmut from Germany—another kind exchange.

And just like that, the day softened again.

Now I’m in my room, finishing up and getting ready for tomorrow. Another day, another chance.

Thanks for checking in, Andrea