Back In The Algarve
I made it to the Algarve and already this feels like the decision I should have made instead of heading to Prague last week. It’s still 13C here and it’s the middle of the night. Almost like another world. Paying under £100 a week for this place and I’ve got a 6th-floor balcony.
From now on I will be posting these by morning as I was finding myself in the situation where I had to write a post and run with only 2 hours left of the day to go. I need to prioritize running and once it’s done I can write about it and hopefully provide some kinda insight.
I ran 15km tonight and ate oranges and lemons off the trees as I went around Portimao. The air is so fucking fresh here. Almost fruity in flavor. The only downside is the non-stop barking of dogs on farms.
Accommodation is so cheap here. Not just any accommodation either. Good shit.
Survived my longest flight today since I stopped drinking. Almost 4 hours beside 2 loud Germans one of whom wouldn’t stop elbowing me for the entire fucking flight. I paid £30 for it with priority boarding and extra luggage so as long as I got there in one piece who gives a fuck.
72km this week. Beats 53km from the week before. I’ve got so much pent-up frustration in me at the moment that I think I could easily surpass both of those put together this week. Just need to get out 2 or 3 times on the Ecovia with an adventurous spirit. Fuel with fruit trees and tacky English ex-pat bar toasties.
Have a good but busy time. Get shit done and recapture the spirit I’ve lost before and that I want to keep with me forever. Tired of living in fear. Need to step out and make all this shit count.