If you follow along closely, you might remember that my husband, Kyle, was planning to walk the Camino this September and into early October. That means he should be in Spain right now, but he’s not—instead he’s here with me in our new home. And while I’m grateful to have him by my side in this transition, I’m saddened that he’s had to put his journey on hold—at least from now. Here’s what happened, in his own words. -Lacy
For a couple of years now, I’ve been planning to walk The Camino de Santiago de Compostela.
This past May, I finally decided that it was time, and bought the tickets; I would be leaving on the 31st of August. It felt surreal for a while. Buying plane tickets abroad is something that I had only done once before. But the reality began to sink in—I would actually be going to Spain to walk the Camino, and I’d be leaving in just over three months.
I was so excited.
Soon, my heart had already boarded a plane and was already walking. My heart had already arrived in Paris in the early morning on the 1st of September (the route called the Camino Francés, which I would be walking, begins in France). In Paris, I had seen, tasted, smelled, touched, and experienced as much as one really could in one day (mostly to redeem the last time I was there, when I got the flu). I had stayed with an acquaintance I met at the Taizé Community two years ago and had already taken a train to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, France, where I began walking the 500 miles to Santiago de Compostela, Spain.
My heart was already fully on the Camino, while I was spending the summer preparing for my body to join.
I’m a fairly active person. I like to walk or ride my bicycle when I can, and I regularly exercise to continue recovering from a back surgery I had several years ago. Still, I felt I needed to do some serious hiking to break in some new shoes and gear I’d bought for my impending long walk in Spain.
looking happy and healthy before we began the hike (from left to right: me, my friend Brian, and Paul)
Two months before my actual departure, I made plans to join my friend Paul as he hiked another section of the Pacific Crest Trail, which he spent 6 weeks hiking the previous summer (read about his journey here). The section of the trail we’d be hiking was 75 miles, and we would walk it in 5 days. That’s 15 miles a day, which is around the daily amount that I’d be walking on the Camino, so I thought it would be a nice way to warm up and get used to walking day after day with a pack on my back.
Makes sense, right?
one of the many alpine lakes along the trail
However, while beautiful, it was far different than I had expected. The terrain of the Pacific Crest Trail is completely different than that of the Camino. The mountains are steeper and the trails haven’t been beaten down by centuries of pilgrims and people just traveling between towns. No—this was serious backcountry hiking, and my body let me know. Not even 24 hours in, I already had blisters forming on my feet in places I’d never had blisters before. My knees were aching, my back was stiff, and it took everything in me just to keep up.
I returned accomplished, but physically defeated. After a week or so, I assumed I would be feeling better, but that wasn’t the case. I soon learned that the hike had given me an injury that typically takes a few months to really heal. I began icing and popping anti-inflammatories like candy. This helped, but it wasn’t enough. “If you weren’t traveling soon, I would put you in a boot for six weeks,” my podiatrist (who also happens to be my uncle) said.
My heart sank. What that really meant? It wasn’t a good idea for me to go. While doing what I thought was preparation for the camino, I’d sustained injuries that would prevent me from going.
The day following this realization was dismal until I realized that while my desire was postponed, it was not stolen. I could change my plans and leave for the Camino the following spring instead. It would give my body a chance to heal, I would be around as we settled into our new home, and I could approach my journey with more intention than my busy summer had allowed. With each of these realizations, I gained new perspective, and less than a day after accepting temporary defeat, I was pleased and grateful for the change of plans and the time to heal.
Until this point, I reluctantly believed that the pain was worth the beauty. Beauty was, without a doubt, the only mercy the Pacific Crest Trail offered me. But perhaps the mountains were meeting my deeper needs in another way. Perhaps the pain was serendipitous, giving me a chance to nurse other wounds in my body unrelated to the hiking trip that still need to heal, and another chance to become more acquainted with my desire.
Perhaps no journey is complete without growth, and worthwhile growth is often unlikely without some discomfort or pain.
I didn’t go hike the Pacific Crest Trail seeking injury, but I choose to believe that there was meaning to my suffering. Though plans have changed, I am look to leaving for the Camino once again and with new perspective, imagining the day when I reach Santiago de Compostela as a different person, more keenly aware of my desires and my wounds, ready to explore what my own healing can bring to world.
GO FURTHER…
Has your journey ever been postponed by unexpected events? What lessons did these surprises teach you? How did they impact your journey going forward? Leave your response to the questions or the post in the comments.
