Humility

en route to Melide 


Today I walked 9 miles to Melide. I went to bed last night feeling jazzed about having a shorter walking day and feeling appreciation for a bit of a break. But, I woke up feeling unmotivated, depleted, and in a sour mood. Why? Because it was pouring rain outside and this walk was going to be anything but a break. I ate a healthy breakfast, drank 3 cups of cafe con leche, and hit the Camino around 8:30am. I threw on my poncho and a sun/rain hat from REI and tried to find my pace.





20 minutes into my walk, I still couldn't get into a rhythm and I suddenly felt like I was walking in quick sand and I had cinder blocks tied to my feet. Every step was a struggle. My legs felt heavy and cumbersome. I was clumsy and hurling myself down a wet slippery trail with handfuls of other pilgrims as equally miserable. I just kept telling myself, "9 miles. I can do 9 miles. This is nothing compared to what you've been through. Keep your head down and keep moving." And so I did.




Except today, it felt like everyone on that trail passed me. I was no longer "Speedy." I tried to find someone to help me set a pace I was comfortable with but everyone was either too fast or too slow and I was on my own. I felt hopeless out there, dripping wet, cold, sore, and wondering why I've chosen this...when I could be at home in a familiar, comfortable, dry place surrounded by people who love me. Instead, I'm in another country where I don't know the language and I'm all alone and it feels incredibly vulnerable.





I'm still trying to figure out why in the hell I'm here. Why has the Camino been calling me for years?  Is this a lesson in humility and endurance? Both things, I admittedly struggle with. Or is it a lesson in compassion? Something I also tend to struggle with.

I tended to a stranger's foot yesterday on the trails. She was sitting on a bench, shoe off, crying, and holding her toes. I was walking by really proud of my quick steps and I was making awesome time, but I stopped to help her. She spoke zero English but we signed to each other as best we could and I pulled out my first aid kit. I taped up each of her toes in sports tape, gave her a smile and a pat on the shoulder, and walked away.

Then today, I met a 74 year old Irish man who was limping so badly that I felt concerned and stopped to check on him. He told me he wasn't doing well and so I told him I would walk with him and chat to keep his mind off the pain. After a while, I gave him a clap on the back and forged on. We saw each other later in a restaurant in Melide where he found me eating Octopus and croquettes. He said he was so thankful for our talk earlier and told me, "I'll see you in Santiago, my friend. God willing!" and off he went again at a snail's pace, determined to make it to Santiago. Two acts of compassion -I'm sure I can do better. I'll try again tomorrow.

Eating Octopus with my Irish friend


The rains stopped about 5 miles into my walk and the sun brought me back to life. I breezed into Melide around noon with feet that feel like they've been pulverized with a sledge hammer, a sore knee, an a couple of blisters. And even worse perhaps, I tore my contact lens while trying to clean them so I'll have to spend the remainder of my Camino with semi-crappy vision.

Tomorrow, I could be the one who needs some compassion. Each mile brings more pain and steals away more of my stamina. Today felt like a healthy dose of humility. And while it's likely long over due, I sure didn't like the taste.

Taped feet to avoid blisters


Here are a few moments today that made it all worth it.






1 km outside of Melide

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