Nine miles this evening down the usual trail near home. When I'm out there, I just want to keep going. For a week, maybe. A month. Or a year. Maybe I should walk trails for what remains of my life and see how far I can go. But after nine miles my feet are already sore, muscles twitch and cramp later, and yet I still want to go.
Santiago de Compostela after this bug runs its course.
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