A Long Way to Get There

Daily miles: 38.05 | Total miles: 14,234.68

I got up before 7am and gathered all my things in the dark as quietly as possible, carrying everything down to the basement where the buggy was parked. Someone had to unlock the door, and as I stepped inside, I realized that one of my bags—the one I had placed next to the buggy on a bench—was gone. The woman with me told me it had likely already been thrown into the garbage, into one of the street containers. So, first thing in the morning, I went dumpster diving.

It’s a strange way to start the day, standing there, reaching into what has been discarded. A quiet reminder of how quickly something can be gone, how little control we really have over anything, and how thin the line can be between holding on and losing something. For many people, this is not an exception—it’s everyday life. I had to reach deep, but I managed to pull out two bags—and yes, mine was in one of them. Lucky. The others I wouldn’t have been able to reach.

I packed up, got ready, and just before 8am I was on the road. Barcelona was already alive, people moving, city life in full swing. I followed a path toward the river and ran along it for a while, gravel under my feet and green surroundings—a peaceful way to leave the city behind for the first ten miles. After a coffee stop, I continued, the sun already strong and hot, just wonderful. The road turned into a steady uphill, narrow, with construction sites making it even tighter. Some days it’s difficult to find the energy to run alongside heavy traffic, so I settled into an easier rhythm and focused on the warmth of the Catalonian sun. Letting go, just a little, of how I think things should be, and allowing the day to be what it is.

At mile 27, I checked my emails again. Earlier, I had contacted a hostel quite far ahead, and now there it was—a response with availability. I checked the map and made a decision: instead of stopping earlier as planned, I would go for it. A longer push, straight ahead. I tapped into my reserves and started running again. It’s interesting how quickly the mind shifts—what felt like too much suddenly becomes possible, just because a new idea appears.

Everything was going well until I suddenly found myself on a highway. I’m not even sure how it happened. Almost immediately, the police were behind me. I stopped for a documentation check, and they insisted on driving me. I said no. I told them I would move onto a gravel road and find my way, but they didn’t want to let me go at first. They kept insisting, and in that moment, something in me tightened.

I was tired. Thirsty. Under pressure. I just wanted to keep moving.

I told them I didn’t have time, that I needed to go—and then, I started crying. I couldn’t really listen anymore. It was as if the body spoke before the mind could organize it. Maybe that’s what happens when everything builds up quietly over time and then finds its way out all at once. Not dramatic, just real.

After the check, they finally let me continue onto the gravel road, reassuring me they only wanted to help—and of course, I knew that. It was just the moment. The accumulation of small decisions, small efforts, small tensions throughout the day.

As always, things worked themselves out. I checked my phone again and saw that the hostel check-in was until 7:30pm. I knew I wouldn’t make it, so I thought I would camp. But as I walked down the gravel road and checked the route again, I found another option—about six miles, rough at first, even a flooded crossing, but then turning into a good running road. I calculated it: I would be about five minutes late. No way to make it exactly on time with the hills and everything that had already happened. So I sent a quick message asking if they might wait just a few minutes.

And then I ran.

After already being on my way for more than 30 miles, I ran as fast as I could. People must have thought I was escaping something. One woman even stopped and asked if everything was okay. I looked over, sweat running down my face, breathing hard, and said yes, all good. And in a way, it was.

Because even in all of this—confusion, pressure, exhaustion—there was still direction. Still movement.

And you know what—I made it. 7:35pm, just as predicted. The woman at reception didn’t mind at all and gave me a room. I drank a liter of water in one go while she took my details.

Now I’m here—alone in a quiet room, showered, finally still. Dinner was simple and a bit random: a can of peas, a jar of pickles, some slices of cheese, nuts, and berry yogurt for both appetizer and dessert. A long day, a lot going on—but I made it.

And maybe that’s what stays with me tonight. Not that everything worked out perfectly, but that even when things fall apart, get lost, or feel overwhelming, there is still a way forward. Not through control, but through continuing. Step by step, decision by decision, breath by breath.

Thanks for checking in. See you tomorrow, Andrea