Day 95 - August 15th: Slime
Ipsala to Malkara: 30.2 miles / 2,730 total
Everything went according to plan yesterday. Christina and Jax arrived in Istanbul at 9 PM, while I was in my hotel room in İpsala by 2:30 PM—my earliest finish in weeks. The three-star İpsala Park Hotel was a strange experience. The entire staff seemed to consist of one college student at the front desk. She offered me a room with two beds, and when I asked for a double, she told me the hotel was full. I insisted she speak to a manager, as I’d seen no one else anywhere. Moments later, she found me a room with a double bed after all.
It was a quick post-run routine as I didn’t have much with me, although I noticed something dark in my water bottle. Taking it apart revealed a slime infestation. Well, it hasn’t made me sick yet, so it can’t be that bad.
With time to spare, I walked into İpsala and found a café serving pastries with Turkish coffee. A woman in a headscarf brought me the two pastries I ordered, then added her favorite—layered with peanuts and chocolate. At 6 PM, I was at a family-run restaurant: mom in the kitchen, dad and the boys in front. No one spoke much English, so communication was slow. The father pulled out his phone and showed me photos of menu items. I chose a Turkish salad—like a Greek salad but with more spices and peppers—fresh-cut fries, and cheese-stuffed kebabs, washed down with a Tuborg Malt.
Afterwards, I translated “dessert” on my phone. Dad disappeared, ran down to the pastry shop, and returned with cake, which he served with a Turkish liquor. There was ceremony to it—two clean glasses held to the light, the clear spirit measured precisely, topped with mineral water until it clouded, the second glass just mineral water. It was like a chemistry lab, the taste somewhere between anisette and Pepto-Bismol, softened by the dilution. The whole experience was warm, generous, and I left full and happy.
Alone in the room for the first time in 94 hotels hit hard, it was too quiet. The realization that Christina’s part of the journey was over settled heavy. After something this intense for so long, unwinding is its own challenge. With no electronics or company, I turned out the lights early.
At sundown and then again at sunrise, the call to prayer replaced church bells, the melodic chanting drifting in through the window. I went down for breakfast at 7, opting for a solid meal over early miles, knowing food might be scarce later. If I start with enough, I can run the whole day without eating if I need to.
Near Keşan, at 25 km, I stopped at a gas station café. The manager, Murat, spoke a little English and helped me get a panini and pretzel. As I was about to leave, he came over with two teas and motioned for me to sit again. We talked—he’s an accountant who manages the station, working 8 AM to 10 PM daily. “Life is hard,” he said. “I don’t see my daughter grow up.” He’s taught himself Russian, Japanese, Korean, English, and Spanish, dreaming of visiting those countries. On politics, he told me, “The people of Turkey love Erdoğan.” When I asked about Trump, he just shook his head. “Bad man.”
From Keşan, I began the long climb over the first mountain pass in Turkey. This route has been used for centuries—Ottoman troops once moved through these hills toward Europe, and before them, Byzantine messengers and traders passed this way along roads linking Constantinople with the Balkans. The pass offered sweeping views of the rolling countryside.
I descended toward Malkara, my night’s stop, sitting on another hill. Malkara has deep Ottoman roots—it was part of the empire’s grain belt, supplying wheat and barley to Istanbul for hundreds of years. Earlier still, Thracian tribes farmed these lands, and Byzantine garrisons guarded the road against raiders from the north.
I finished strong—hydrated, not sailor-hungry. Success. Tomorrow is the biggest day left of the four remaining—almost 60 km to Tekirdağ. Food first, then slumber.
Thanks for following along and for the support.
Cheers,
David.
