A Journey of Challenges and Kindness

I started the day early, making sure to be as quiet as possible while packing my buggy. As the first light appeared, I set off along the coastal road, taking in the peaceful sight of the Pacific Ocean in the early morning hours. It was energizing to see other runners out as well, sharing the road in the crisp morning air.

The route had its fair share of rolling hills. I walked the climbs and ran the flats and downhills, but surprisingly, my legs didn’t feel as fresh as I had expected after a rest day. Maybe I was just still tired, but I kept moving forward, knowing that today’s challenge was ahead.

At mile 20, I took a turn and ran alongside salt lakes, wondering about the process of salt collection—something I’ll have to read up on later. Shortly after crossing a bridge, I faced what I already suspected: the last seven miles would be tough. The road ahead was a steep, gravely, sandy incline—one that looked almost impossible to push the buggy up.

Just as I was about to start climbing, a 4x4 SUV stopped beside me. Inside was a father and his three kids. He offered me a ride to the next town, but instead, I asked if he thought I could push the buggy on my own. He said, “Yes, once the buggy is on top.” Without hesitation, they lifted the buggy onto the truck, and I climbed up as quickly as possible. The incline was brutal—no way I could have done this alone. Once at the top, I carefully navigated the loose gravel, moving slowly but steadily. It was exhausting, but the sense of accomplishment afterward was incredible.

After tackling this challenge, I finally made it back to a paved road and arrived at a big intersection in El Rodeo. I needed to find a place to sleep and saw a small sign for empanadas and bread. My best approach so far has been to ask locals for recommendations, so I headed there.

Coincidentally, a big family in a car had also stopped at the stand. As I parked my buggy, I explained what I was doing. Soon, Geraldine, who worked at the stand, joined the conversation. Then, the family stepped out of the car, excited to take pictures with me. Before I knew it, more relatives from the house behind the stand came out, and suddenly, we were all in full picture mode—smiling, laughing, sharing the moment.

After some discussion among themselves, the family decided to offer me a place to camp in their garden. "Of course, you are part of the family now. It would be an honor," they said. I told them it was an honor for me, too. Then came the real magic—hospitality in its purest form.

They asked if I was hungry (which, of course, I always am!), and soon, they served me a freshly prepared vegetarian meal, juice, and a big piece of watermelon for dessert. We had deep, beautiful conversations. The children were fascinated by having an unusual visitor in their home, and their warmth and curiosity made the moment even more special.

Experiencing a culture like this—through genuine human connection—is the most incredible part of my journey. The family didn’t just offer me a garden to camp in. They upgraded me to a bed, gave me a cold but refreshing shower, provided wonderful Chilean food, drinks, WiFi, a comfortable place to sit, and, above all, an overwhelming amount of love and kindness.

The way they spoke, the way they shared, the way they welcomed me—this is something I rarely experience in my own culture. Every word exchanged came straight from the heart.

Thank you, beautiful family. You are absolutely wonderful.