I'm reminded of a young German pilgrim I met on the first day over the Pyrenees. We only met a short time during a water break as he was much faster than this old man. He was brimming with confidence and zeal about his abilities to cover much ground, very quickly, said he would have no problem clocking 40-60km per day. He was quite the young stud, in the military, a body like an Olympic triathlete. A cautioned him not to push too hard, to enjoy his Camino, smell the occasional grape vine along the way. He nodded politely, then off he galloped.
A few days later I ran into him in a bar in Pamplona, his foot all bandaged up and elevated onto a bar chair. We had a beer together, and he lamented that his Camino was done. In addition to the horrific blistering, he'd sustained a serious achilles tendon injury, saying he just pushed himself a bit too hard. I tried to console him best I could, finished my beer, and then off I slowly galloped... to Santiago.