In which I take a long coastal road with glorious views, see some cats, take some kind of selfie, and enter the province of Almería.
In which I take a coastal road with stunning views, luncheon like King Arthur, and ask drivers to remember runners are squishy.
In which I run kilometres through a river, get stuck up a mountain, backtrack 30 km, run through the night, and stop after 16 hours and 78 km.
In which I leave my beshadowed self behind, and am permeated by the beauty of the coastal road and the blue, blue sea.
In which I run along an easy road with some nice views, but fail to enjoy it very much at all because my soul is cloudier than the sky.
In which I reach Málaga in time for Christmas, reflect on city-building strategies, and extend it as a wider metaphor in life. Merry Christmas. :)
In which I meet a Jehovah’s Witness on the mount, almost become meat for two dogs, and indulge in a little Dutch food and directions.
In which I am offered two ways to relax, pick a bone about dogs, and discover the way to Amsterdam.
In which I am well-behaved, thus rewarded with much concrete, see some remarkably ornate buildings, and have some company.
In which somebody stops me and asks me something very surprising, I discover an intriguing conveyance, and a pavement is safely fenced off.