Day 34 - June 11th: The Oven
Cuq-Toulza to Saint-Amans-Soult: 29.9 miles / Total: 891
Yesterday, even with the heat, was one of my strongest days so far. I keep a running clock during the day and aim for a 3 mph average—that includes meals, timeouts, and bathroom breaks. A solid day is 18 minutes per mile overall. Yesterday, I averaged 17. All walking, with a bit of downhill jogging near the end.
My lungs seem to be stabilizing. While I’m on the move, I’ve been careful to breathe through my nose and stay relaxed. No coughing overnight meant better sleep. Physically, I feel strong. I’m close to moving into machine mode.
Jax, on the other hand, hit a speed bump yesterday. After 33 km, he came up lame on his left paw. A night’s rest helped, but not enough to risk 30 miles today in high heat on a busy road. Then this morning, Christina asked me if I’d seen little white things in his poop. “What kind of things?” I asked. “Like worms,” she said. “How do you know they’re worms?” “Because they were moving.” Perfect. All those road apples he ate finally caught up with him. Christina stayed with him today and stopped by a vet along the way. They gave her the meds he needed. Problem solved—and the day off will do him good.
For this stretch, Christina has lined up roadside hotels, and they’ve been working out well. Last night was smooth—check-in, shower, dinner at the hotel restaurant with a proper menu del dia, and lights out at 9 p.m.
After breakfast, she dropped me off 8 km from where I finished yesterday. I got started at 7:20 a.m. under clear skies and the warmest morning yet—already 70 degrees. No Jax today, it would be all business.
I began with purpose, knowing the heat would rise quickly. I climbed steadily to Puylaurens, a town perched on a ridge. From the top, I had a stunning view of the valley below and, far off in the distance, the Haut-Languedoc mountains, part of the southern tip of the Massif Central. It reminded me of the day I ran toward Pamplona, seeing the mountain before the city in the distance and thinking it would take forever—only to reach it 25 km later. Today: 28 km to the base. Same story.
Historically, Puylaurens was a Protestant stronghold during the French Wars of Religion in the 16th century, and its strategic hilltop location made it a frequent point of conflict between Catholics and Huguenots. It also played a role in the medieval Cathar resistance before that. Today, it’s quiet and beautifully preserved—like many towns I’ve passed.
From there, I followed Google Maps down into the valley, only to hit a massive highway construction zone. Dead end. I had two choices: go back up and take the detour, or bushwhack through the site. I chose forward. Waist-high weeds, then a steep drop into a graded area still full of pooled water. As I hit the bottom, both my shoes sank into thick mud up to my ankles. My Garmin watch even triggered a fall alert—first time I’ve ever seen that function. I trudged out of the quicksand-like mess, trying to keep my shoes on my feet. The left shoe, the one with a hole cut out for my blistered pinky toe, was now full of mud—inside and out. Not a great start to my day.
Temperatures hit the mid-90s as I slogged through Soual and Viviers-lès-Montagnes, where I finally stopped at the 18 km mark for a Coke, a pizza, and a cookie. Back out into the sun, I pushed through two larger towns—Labruguière and Mazamet. Both were good for water and short shade breaks.
Christina and Jax drove by at one point and honked. I saw Jax in the backseat staring at me out the window with big sad eyes. I wondered if he had actually recognized me and if so, what he was thinking—why he wasn’t out there beside me. Later, Tina told me he was crying.
As I left Mazamet, I spotted a sign that read “Voie Verte”—greenway. Jackpot. After 40 km in direct sun, I hit a shaded bike-and-pedestrian path at 2:30 p.m., the hottest part of the day. It felt like finding an oasis. The final 8 km melted away under the trees.
We’re staying at a roadside hotel in Saint-Amans-Soult, a quiet village that once bore the name Saint-Amans-la-Bastide before being renamed for Jean-de-Dieu Soult, one of Napoleon’s Marshals and a native son. He fought in the Peninsular War—some of the same ground I just covered weeks ago in northern Spain.
Our place tonight is a mini chateau with cabana-style rooms set around a pool. First thing I did when I arrived was strip down to my running shorts and dive into that cold water. It was exactly what I needed. Dinner’s at 7:30. Menu del dia. My favorite part of the routine.
All for today, thanks for the support.
Cheers,
David.
