The Atlantic — 4th Continental Crossing Complete

Daily miles: 32.03 | Total miles: 14,994.37

My alarm rang just after 6am—and somehow, I must have turned it off. I woke up at 7 and realized I could have easily slept much longer. I had slept so well. Still, I got up, had a cold coffee, and tried to get ready as quickly as possible.

Down in the lobby, the receptionist told me she thought my journey was great. I took that as a beautiful start to the day, even though my head felt a bit heavy. The past few days have been emotionally intense—so much on my mind. I like that depth, but at times it can feel overwhelming.

It was overcast, and I could smell the rain in the air. The roads were quiet—Sunday, my favorite running conditions. From the very beginning, the scenery was stunning: rolling hills, fog hanging between trees, horses and cows appearing here and there. Idyllic.

Then, after mile three, the rain started.

I put on my jacket and tried to protect everything as best as possible, but soon it turned into a full downpour. Within minutes, I was soaked. I have to admit, I felt annoyed. My spirits dropped, and I thought this might be hours of running in the rain.

Water ran down my face, my pants clung to my legs, and the road turned into small streams. I ran downhill, jumping over flowing water, trying to keep my feet from getting completely soaked right away. I even thought—no pictures today if it keeps raining like this.

But about three miles later, I reached Pontedeume. There was a beautiful bridge to cross, and from there it was clear the road would go uphill again. I decided to treat myself—coffee and a croissant. A small moment to savor my last running day in Spain.

Perfect timing. While I was inside, the rain stopped. When I stepped back out, I was only slightly damp—and a couple of miles later, walking uphill, I was almost dry. It still amazes me how quickly that can happen.

After that, it drizzled now and then, but nothing compared to earlier. Once you’ve experienced that kind of rain, everything else feels easy.

The rest of the run was simply beautiful—small towns, individual houses, churches, bridges. I found myself fully present, taking it all in. And of course, every horse along the way was told how beautiful it is.

Just before entering A Coruña, I stopped at a restaurant for a coffee and to recharge my phone. I always enjoy sitting and observing people—simple, ordinary moments that somehow feel meaningful.

Then came the final seven miles into the city.

The weather had shifted—clouds still there, but patches of blue sky and sunlight breaking through. It became warmer, and it felt perfect to run. I found bike paths leading me into the city, and from the beginning, something about A Coruña felt different. Relaxed, open, beautiful.

I ran through a park with a rose garden—the smell was incredible. I passed a statue of John Lennon, continued toward the harbor, saw sailing boats, and the city opened up in front of me.

At one point, Paco and Ales approached me and said that Manolo had told them about me. Another unexpected connection, just like that.

I kept moving, taking everything in. I passed a statue—Virgen del Carmen—who seemed to represent calm strength, at least to me.

I reached the Tower of Hercules —the oldest Roman lighthouse still in use in the world—and thought about finishing there. But it felt crowded, and I wanted something quieter, something more my own. So I continued.

Near the bronze sculpture Caronte—the mythological ferryman who carries souls across the river Styx—I paused briefly. Then I found a small path leading down to Praia das Amorosas.

That was it.

I stood there, breathing deeply, letting it all sink in. My fourth continental crossing—complete. All the miles, all the moments, all the emotions that brought me here. What a privilege!

Only a few people were around. It felt right.

I changed into my Superwoman dress and stood there in the sun. At first, it always feels a bit awkward—but like everything, you settle into it. And then it feels surprisingly natural, maybe even a little fun.

Chris, Adriane, and one other man were there. That was enough.

I felt grounded. Present. Not overwhelmed—just steady. The emotions had moved through me over the past days, and now there was space.

We took some pictures. Celebrated the moment. Chris gave me some sunflower seeds with BBQ flavor, which made me feel a bit like a bird when I later walked away.

I changed back into my running clothes and started the walk to the hotel—about five miles, the first part along a beautiful seaside promenade. The ocean beside me, art installations everywhere, the sun warming everything. I couldn’t stop noticing how beautiful it all felt. The last stretch was through the city and then uphill, but I felt incredibly good.

Just before the hotel, I stepped into a small shop, thinking it was a supermarket. It turned out to be more of a candy store. I asked Ludmilla if she had any cardboard boxes she didn’t need—and she gave me four.

So I arrived at the hotel not just with my buggy, but also carrying boxes.

Ismail, who I had spoken to before, was incredibly kind and easygoing. I asked him for a few more boxes—and yes, I got them. Tomorrow, I’ll try to wrap the buggy in a way no one has ever seen before. Improvisation mode. Let’s see if it works.

Thank you so much for following along, for your support in whatever form it comes. I truly appreciate it.

Take care, my friends— see you tomorrow, Andrea