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I arrive after running 90 kilometres a day. The others will kick at the
meeting, but I can't see any other solution.
october 27
I ran through Chiclayo today, still on the Pan-American Highway. It
was founded by Spanish missionaries in the 16th century, but now it's
a gritty, commercial city with honking, revving, tyre-squealing trucks
and buses, and heavy pollution. Apparently it's also home to witch
doctors, and some of the stores I ran past were selling 'magical' herbs
and potions and various magic charms. If there was one that could
make me run further and faster each day, take away my aches and
pains and make Brooke and Dillon materialise before my eyes, I'd buy
a truckload.
Peru is a country divided into the jungle of the Amazon Basin in
the east, the astonishingly beautiful Andes in the centre, and the arid
desert on the west coast. Guess where my route takes me? Through the
desert, of course. It's just the way it has to be. My role is not sightseeing
