Held by the Storm

Daily miles: 33.67 | Total miles: 15,241.94

I woke up after a good night’s sleep—and still felt so tired I could hardly open my eyes.

But I reminded myself: take it easy for a few days, gather some energy for the finish.

I pressed the button on the coffee machine, and Heimo came out to greet me with a warm hug. Bettina followed. These are the mornings I love—quiet, warm, human. A hot coffee in my hands, familiar faces around me. I had already told them I could easily stay a week.

Bettina prepared breakfast, and I just sat there, taking it all in. My sister joined us a bit later. It was one of those simple moments that feel full—no need to rush, no need to move.

Eventually, we stepped outside, said our goodbyes, and I ran off into the day.

I knew rain was coming at some point—but when and how much is always a surprise.

Just as I was about to leave Admont, I met Herr Kronenberg. A short exchange, and then I continued. The landscape opened up quickly—wide, green, and framed by mountains. To my right, a tall peak already caught in low-hanging clouds.

Along the way: castles on distant hilltops, a funny cat, Monika returning from cleaning a church, Stefan—a truck driver—who stopped and handed me some money. Small, unexpected encounters that carry a day.

Around mile 18, my sister appeared again. At that point, I could feel the weather shifting.

And then it came.

Wind first. Then rain. Then hail. Water pouring from the sky.

It’s in moments like these that support matters most. Someone once asked me if I could imagine a more supportive sister—and the answer is no. I’m incredibly grateful for her. Always have been, but especially now, when things get harder and even simple functioning takes effort.

The rain eased briefly—then returned.

At some point, my phone was too wet to navigate. My Garmin stopped working and needed charging. I lost my way. And when I finally found it again, I was stopped by the police—just a short interruption, but enough to break rhythm once more.

And then came the climb.

A steep gravel road, relentless. By the time I made it up, I was completely soaked and ice cold.

There’s a certain kind of quiet that comes with that state—when the body is done, the mind is quiet, and everything narrows down to just getting through.

When I arrived in Zirting, I was deeply tired. We had dinner, and now I’m writing this with one eye already closing.

A full day. A hard one. And still, moving forward.

Thank you for being here, Andrea