A Test of Speed, Strength, and Kindness

Waking up in my tent near the Pacific, I expected a freezing night, but surprisingly, it wasn’t as cold as I had feared. The dampness, however, was unavoidable—everything was soaked from the ocean air. Packing up meticulously, I prepared for another long day on the road. The morning was cool, the landscape stunning, and after yesterday’s brutal climb, I welcomed the flatter terrain.

Not long after I started running, a dog sneaked up on me, sniffed around my gear, and then—just like that—decided to join me. For miles and miles, he ran beside me as if we had always been a team. I didn’t mind the unexpected company.

At mile 8, a sharp sound cut through the quiet morning. I wasn’t sure what it was at first, but a moment later, I realized—a broken spoke on my right wheel. I quickly adjusted it to prevent further damage and kept going, knowing I could attempt a fix in Putu, about 3 miles ahead. Once in Putu, I removed the wheel, extracted the damaged part, and tried to fix it as best as I could. But I lacked the right tool to fully repair it.

I checked for bicycle shops in Constitución, my next planned stop, and saw they closed at 2 PM. With 13 miles to go and just 2.5 hours until closing, I knew I’d have to push the pace. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue, but with a loaded buggy, unpredictable terrain, and rolling hills, I wasn’t sure how it would go.

I decided to go for it—picking up speed, settling into a strong rhythm, even embracing the uphill sections as a solid workout. It felt good to change gears and test my speed. With just 9 minutes to spare, I arrived at the shop. The mechanic, Carlos, started working on my wheel but then paused, saying he had to go to lunch and would fix it later. Knowing I still had 12 miles to run, I pleaded with him to finish it now. He agreed, and within minutes, the job was done. The fast running had been worth it.

After a quick resupply, I continued on. The climb out of Constitución was tough, but by now, hills don’t faze me—I just take them step by step. The afternoon run was beautiful, though much of the landscape was covered in felled trees, a reminder of the vast lumber industry here.

As I reached Las Cañas, where I had planned to stay, I realized the accommodations listed on Google Maps might not actually exist. The town looked worn down, and I had no idea where to go. Just before turning in, I saw a man standing on a ladder, hammer in hand, working on a house. I called out across the road, asking if he knew a place where I could sleep.

He paused for a second, then simply said, “Come over, you can stay here.”

Saimon, as I later learned, is someone who likes to help. He gave me a room in his home, full access to the kitchen and bathroom—no hesitation, no expectation of anything in return. I sat on his couch, staring out the window, overwhelmed once again by the kindness of strangers.

After he finished his work, we talked, using Google Translate to bridge the language gap. I think we both truly enjoyed each other’s company. Moments like these make this journey even more meaningful.

Thank you, Saimon. You are amazing.

I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow, already wondering what Day 50 would bring.