Day 8: Mendoza

Our day starts with a long descent from the foothills of the 'old' Andes to the bustling Argentinian town of Mendoza. The early morning air is warm and gentle in our face but builds to a blustery headwind throughout the morning as a system blows in from the east.

We are in a wonderful position, surveying the world below us, the sensation like that of an aircraft on its gradual descent for landing.

The road we're running on is composed of large square blocks of concrete that extend from curb to the centerline of the road. Many of these blocks have moved vertically relative to one another sometimes as much as 3-4 inches. We're in earthquake country here and the movement of these huge slabs of concrete speak to a very turbulent past. In 1963, one of the largest earthquakes every recorded - its epicenter in Chile, was unleashed on this region, the raw explosive beauty of the Andes a simple geological snap-shot of a planet alive.

Mendoza is a beautiful university town of about a million people, with shaded tree-lined streets and cafes spilling out onto sidewalks but as with all towns it has it's rough sections. The first 5 kilometers through town is considered sketchy and we're warned not to stray from the main road. We experience a mild sense of foreboding as we enter town, knowing everything about us screams: "not from around these parts, are you boy?" but, truth be told, our sun scorched, unwashed demeanor, eyes saucer-wide after the last 30 kilometers of running, probably suggest something well worth avoiding. We make it through without so much as a glance.

Mendoza is busy today with streets choked and sidewalks crammed, a vibrancy that would be welcomed on any other occasion but we're trying to run through this town. It's not long before we're slowed to a walk and resign ourselves to our reduced pace. We take in the ambience and spend the time chatting about inanities. It's a welcome forced break after days of hard effort.

I'm happy to be walking because as we were entering town I experienced a sharp pain on the inside of my left leg - my abductor muscle evidently - a likely a result of my altered gait from my foot injury, and I'm unable to run. If it's not one thing, it's another it seems.

Once through town I call it a day at 41 kilometers while Ray and Bob - who makes the switch with me - continues on to the 50km mark.