June 9th - Day Off!
Porto to Toulouse: 32 days 831 miles
I’ve covered 831 miles on foot, crossing Portugal, Spain, and now France. The run began in Porto under clear skies, following the central route of the Caminho toward Santiago. From there, I kept going—east through the interior of Spain, across the Meseta, through the Pyrenees, and now down into the rolling farmland west of Toulouse.
The terrain has shifted constantly: cobblestones, dirt paths, mountain switchbacks, cracked pavement, tractor roads and sometimes even head high weeds of bushwhacking. There’s been cold driving rain, fog, sun, and hot days with the sun so strong it felt like my skin was burning. I’ve run through cities buzzing with tourists and villages and stretches of farmland where the only signs of life were barking dogs and the distant pop of bird-scarers. And every so often, I pass through a medieval village—perfectly preserved, quiet, and seemingly untouched by time—where stone buildings lean into narrow lanes and it feels like nothing has changed in centuries.
The physical toll is real. My shin/tibia derailed me in my run across America but not this time. My upper respiratory system has been an issue since Spain— probably triggered by farm-related allergens and made worse by the constant heavy breathing day after day. Hopefully its more irritation than illness at this point. Blisters have formed, drained, and returned. But the body is adapting. There’s a rhythm now: get out early and start strong, knock out 25 km, refuel, drift through the next 10–15 km with occasional distractions, then grind out the finish. Eat enough. Stay ahead of hydration. Manage the feet. Compress and elevate. Sleep, even if poorly.
Jax has logged most of it beside me. He’s pushed through paw sores, fatigue, heat, and cuts. Still, he doesn’t want to miss a morning—he stations himself at the door when he senses it’s time. He’s matured a lot out here. He knows not to chase every animal, how to find water, and how to hold it together in restaurants and hotels.
Christina has been the difference-maker. Daily drop-offs, pick-ups, supply runs, lodging, logistics, laundry—you name it. And, she has adopted Jax as hers and vice-versa. Everything I don’t have the bandwidth for, she’s handled. None of this would work without her and she is awesome.
And then there’s everyone else who’s supported me from afar—without you, this could’ve easily come off the rails. Monica, my partner. My family. Lisa, my coach. Ted in a huge way, John, Jim, Bob, Doug, Skip and so many others who’ve reached out with encouragement.
Jax was sad to see one of the pack depart all the way to the airport
I’ve met people along trails, in bars and cafés, on farm roads, and in cities—most just looking to connect with a fellow traveler. I take something from each of them. Every interaction is a small spark that helps carry me further east.
The solitude is real, even when I’m not alone. There’s time to think—about everything and nothing. Sometimes it’s just footsteps and breath for hours, wind in the trees, birds calling in the distance. Other times I replay old conversations, wonder what’s ahead, question what I’m doing—then fall back into the rhythm and keep going.
This is my first full day off in 32 days. My shin is solid. The cough lingers but it’s manageable. My feet aren’t perfect, but I’ve seen worse. The fitness is building. There’s real durability now, and my mind feels strong and focused. I am light - in spirit and by 10 pounds! I’ve already covered nearly 1,000 miles. Two more blocks like this, and I’ll be standing at the edge of Europe, looking toward Asia.
Thanks for the support!
Cheers,
David.
P.S. In Toulouse, I ate at one of the best Chinese restaurants I can remember—Jiao Zi Guan, rated 4.9 on Google with over a thousand reviews. I’m going back tonight. There were just three people working the kitchen, with a constant stream of orders from both delivery and diners. Unlike The Bear, where chaos is the norm, they made it all look effortless.
