running through alcobaça at midnight, here’s what happened

i woke up at 2am and thought running through alcobaça would be a genius idea. i don’t know why. maybe it was the cold air, maybe it was the fact that half my joints were screaming like i’d run a marathon in flip-flops. guess what? it happened. i just checked and it’s 16.66° out there, hey did you know portugal still uses celsius? hope you like that kind of thing. the path was wet from some weird rain showers earlier, and my sneakers turning into slippery slippers of regret. but hey, i’m alive. kind of.

so here’s the scoop. if you get bored, alcobaça is just a short drive away from the beach, but don’t let that fool you-the beach here feels like a 19th-century postcard. i heard that the old lighthouse is haunted, though. not scary, just, like, mildly tragic. someoone told me that a tourist once tried to photograph the ghosts and ended up with a 10-minute roll of static. classic.

i’d stand near a blockquote if you’d let me. the neighbors were out there, probably having a secret team meeting. one old man kept yelling at his cat to stop knocking over trash cans. i tried to ask what the hell was going on, but he just grabbed his keys and bolted. classic alcobaça. i heard that the local coffee shop’s milk tastes like regret. it’s happening right now, i’m inside. it’s kind of gross. or cozy. depends on your mood. someone from yelp warned me about the hostel near the station. they said it’s filled with feral tour guides. like, literal feral. no signs, no directions, just ‘follow the smell of desperation’. weird.

i almost stopped halfway. not because i was tired-i’m legendarily persistent when it comes to running-but because i saw a stray cat chasing a pigeon and felt like joining in. i didn’t. i’m better than that. but i did stop to google ‘where is the nearest flimsy bridge’. that’s how it went.

here’s something else. if you’re into weird gear, i’d recommend a pair of those thermal socks from thatamtallstore.com. they’re $15 and basically sold me on the idea that my life is on the line if i don’t wear them in winter. i’m going to need that for future runs. also, the map. just in case:



i took some pics along the way. imagine grainy black-and-white shots of cobblestones, a dog licking a bench, and me looking like a human toaster. the Unsplash folks are my new best friends:

i heard that the cafe 1514387’s pancakes are sentient. i didn’t eat there, but a friend claimed they winked at him. is that true? i don’t know. i’m too busy avoiding my knees.

mostly, i’m here to say: alcobaça exists. it’s not fancy. it’s not romantic. but if you’re that lost tourist who remembers running through a cold town in socks, maybe find it. and wear those socks. the rest is noise.

ps. if you’re a disaster like me, check out this guide: marshrun.com/uncouth-runners. it’s not for everyone. honestly.

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• https://votoris.com/post/dumaguete-dreams-damp-socks-a-botanists-blunder-2
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• https://votoris.com/post/sweat-stone-and-savasana-the-unfiltered-guide-to-mwanzas-fitness-grind