I woke up early on this last day in Europe and broke out the contingency set of warm running clothes I had carried for the Edinburgh Half Marathon. I wasn’t sure how long this run would be, but I definitely wanted to put some miles on my legs before the 12 hour plane ride.
A few miles down the A40 I came to a sign backlit by the sun describing the path ahead. It was either a moment of clarity or starvation, but every cell in my body called out that these roads held nothing of interest and that it was time to turn west and go home.
So I did.