When the Body Says Wait

Daily miles: 34.21 miles | Total miles: 15,899.53

I woke up in the bungalow still feeling tired. I had a hot coffee, packed my things, and spent some time figuring out the day ahead—route options, possible sleeping spots, grocery stores along the way, and all the little logistics that shape each day out here. I started later than usual, and from the first steps I could feel pain. I realized pretty quickly that running would only aggravate it, so it felt better to be cautious and let the morning unfold at its own pace.

I was on a beautiful bicycle path, smooth and quiet, perfect for running, but my body wasn’t ready for it. Sometimes it’s fascinating how pain works. It has so many layers and can feel impossible to fully understand. The more experience I have with it, the better I can organize my thoughts around it—not that I understand it, but I’ve learned how to listen better. Over time, my repertoire for dealing with pain has become quite large, and that helps.

It was a beautiful morning—hot and sunny, exactly the way I like it. And still, for a long time, my body kept telling me not to run. Just before noon I passed through a town where I needed groceries. I still had dinner with me, but I needed more hydration and a few extra things for the rest of the day. I took my time and enjoyed the warmth, the sunshine, and the slowness of the morning.

Later on, I came across a little restaurant-bar on the side of the bicycle path. I walked past it at first, then turned around and went back. I thought a coffee might change my energy a little. But in the end, it wasn’t the coffee that made the difference. It was Celina and Marine. Two wonderful women, a lively conversation, laughter, and that kind of connection that can shift a whole day without warning.

When I left, I started running again, and almost immediately my leg turnover felt easier. The pain had reduced, and little by little it almost disappeared. Once I found my rhythm, I felt that familiar feeling return—that effortless forward motion where everything settles and the body simply moves. And once again I had the thought: if I had no pain, I could run forever.

At this point in the run, I also find myself looking forward to running without the buggy again one day. To having more variation, a smoother running form, and just moving freely with my arms swinging, using my whole body to propel myself forward. It’s a beautiful thought.

And speaking of the buggy—it needs some repair work again. One brake cable is torn and one wheel has started wobbling. But after nearly 16,000 miles, that feels fair. Honestly, I still think it’s incredible quality, and I’m grateful for how much it has carried me through.

Running along the ViaRhôna today was absolutely stunning. Breathtaking. The colors all around me, the steady flow of the river, the way the water mirrored the sky, its smooth surface moving quietly beside me—it all felt incredibly soothing for body and mind. There is something deeply calming about being near water like that. It softened the heat of the day and made the miles feel gentle.

Shortly before arriving at my camping spot, I met Cédric and his dog—another lovely encounter at the end of the day, and one of those small moments that somehow stays with you.

Tonight I had quinoa and some nuts for dinner, and I’ll have a yogurt for dessert. No shower tonight, but beautiful views from my tent—and that feels like enough.

See you tomorrow. Thanks, Andrea