36 Miles and almost 3000 Feet of Elevation Gain

I woke up feeling well-rested after a cozy night on a comfortable mattress with warm blankets. It was one of those mornings where I could have easily stayed in bed a little longer, but the road was calling. As I packed everything up as quietly as possible, even Mono the dog seemed to sense the moment—he stayed silent but showed me so much love before I left. Just as I was done packing, Margarita got up and asked if I wanted some coffee and bread. Of course, I did! It was another precious moment of connection, and I couldn’t help but feel amazed at how quickly I become attached to people I’ve just met. The kindness I receive on this journey never ceases to touch my heart.

Saying goodbye was bittersweet, but I had miles to cover. The route immediately took me up and down—classic coastal terrain. To my right, the Pacific Ocean stretched endlessly, the cool ocean breeze refreshing me as I ran. The small towns I passed through had a unique indigenous charm, each with its own personality and vibrance. In Tirúa, I made an important stop to stock up on food and hydration for the next 75 miles, unsure if there would be any shops along the way. It turns out there were a few, but with very limited supplies, so I was glad I had played it safe and carried extra.

While in Tirúa, I also made a phone call home—it was my mother’s birthday. So here’s another little shoutout: Mami, you are simply the best. I love you! It was nice to take a moment to connect before heading back into the relentless climbs ahead.

And climb, I did! The elevation gain after Tirúa was intense. At times, it felt never-ending. One particularly steep hill had a man completely in shock when he saw me pushing my buggy up. He shouted in disbelief, unable to comprehend why anyone would attempt such an ascent—especially with a loaded stroller. It was a funny encounter, and I just smiled and kept pushing forward.

The rolling terrain continued, with steep ascents followed by just as steep descents. Transitioning from the extreme uphill pushing to running on flats or downhill felt jarring, and my back wasn’t too happy about it. But I kept moving, absorbing the beauty of my surroundings whenever I could.

By the time I reached Yupehue, I was exhausted. I found a couple and asked them about a campsite I had seen on Google Maps. To my relief, it was real! However, when I went to check it out, I realized it was deep in a valley, down an incredibly steep, gravel-covered road. There was no way I could safely get my buggy down there. Instead, I set up camp right at the turnoff. There was a small wooden stand with makeshift chairs and tables, and it was perfectly sheltered from the wind.

As I wrapped up my day, my Garmin watch gave me an error when I tried to save my activity. Of course, I took a picture of the stats—because even though it’s a small thing, it’s frustrating when technology fails. But I quickly reminded myself that a lost activity log is nothing compared to an injury. Perspective is everything.

I ate, settled into my tent, and did all my usual end-of-day tasks. As soon as I lay down, I could feel the exhaustion wash over me. I made sure I was warm enough and then—zzzzz—I was out like a light. Tomorrow, the hills continue. Good night.