Pieces
Veteran Member
She knows something has happened, but she isn't sure quite what it is. She feels it when ever she meets other people. The women are more open and talkative the men more forthcoming and smiling. She has changed and she knows it, but she doesn't know exactly how.
Sometimes when she sits alone at night thinking back she becomes scared of loosing ”it” what ever that may be, and she tries to think of ways to hold on. But how can one hold on to something when one doesn't even know what that something is.
At first she thought it was the walking. So a few weeks later she straps her backpack back on. Wanting more or just to hold on. She doesn't know, she just knows she has to go. So off she goes to walk some more.
This time the backpack is heavier. Most days there will be no food or water, so she has to carry that. Also, the stretches are longer, but that is ok, she has done both forty and fifty before, no sweat. She has her maps and her shell strapped on her backpack and she is excited about walking in her own country, maybe eventually going all the way to Santiago, who know.
So off she goes. With her food, her backpack and her new shoes, exactly the same shoes as the ones she has just worn out, excited and happy to be on the road again.
Just two kilometres after she sets out her hips start hurting, but that is ok, they have hurt before. Just 12 kilometres to the first albergue today so no sweat, and tomorrow they will be better again. She doesn't meet anyone on the way, not even someone walking their dog, and when she finally arrives warm and thirsty to the albergue there is no one there.
She eats some of her food and feels a bit lonely. She had been hoping to meet new people, but apparently not today. It didn't matter being alone in Spain, that was often a choice, but now with no choice it somehow seems to matter.
The next morning when the alarm goes of she doesn't really feel rested. Her legs are still hurting and she hangs around for a bit, dragging out time, hoping they will get better with a few pills, but they don't. Finally she has no more excuses, drops some money in the box and heads out.
The going is easy but her hips make it hard. The road is empty and the air is cold. She wonders why all this matters now when it didn't matter last time but somehow it does. Her leg gets worse and she breaks often hoping it will go away as it has done before, but it just seems to get worse.
After a few kilometres the pain get so bad she can hardly walk and she starts limping along. She takes out her map to find out where she is, knowing there will be nothing all day, so just really checking. She has not come that far and she wonders how a few weeks ago she could walk 500 km when now she barely able to walk 5.
She starts doing the math. She has walked 5 km in the 2 hours since she set out. She has half a litre of water left and there is 15 kilometres to the next fountain, that is six hours and the day is warming up, getting hot and humid. Even worse there is still 35 kilometres to the next bed, at this speed she will not be able to make it before dark/midnight/they close the door at ten, and the pain is getting worse still.
She has still met no one, talked to no one, greeted no one. The day seems endless the water bottle tiny, the backpack heavy and the pain is becoming almost unbearable. So she does the only thing she can think of, the unthinkable. She gets out her phone, calls her sister, and almost in tears asks her to figure a way home for her.
She quits ! Her ? She ? The one who doesn't even believe in quitting, who thinks less of people not really doing an effort. She who thinks quitters are weak ! Right there and then, she quits, gives up, caves in, calls a friend and asks for help !
Because there is no way she can continue.
When she arrives at the train station in her home town, she almost sits down and weeps because she has to walk another 500 meters to her front door, and it just seems impossible. But of course it isn't.
At first she is relieved to arrive back home, but it doesn't take long before the Camino Blues sets back in and she wonders why this time it was so different. But she knows why. The answer is always the same. It always comes down to the people. Even when she chooses not to be with them she needs them to be there. Without others she is nothing.
And while she tries so hard to hold on to the change, and while she knows that even from a 28 hour Camino there is a lesson, she also knows that the only way to hold on is to let it go.
Sometimes when she sits alone at night thinking back she becomes scared of loosing ”it” what ever that may be, and she tries to think of ways to hold on. But how can one hold on to something when one doesn't even know what that something is.
At first she thought it was the walking. So a few weeks later she straps her backpack back on. Wanting more or just to hold on. She doesn't know, she just knows she has to go. So off she goes to walk some more.
This time the backpack is heavier. Most days there will be no food or water, so she has to carry that. Also, the stretches are longer, but that is ok, she has done both forty and fifty before, no sweat. She has her maps and her shell strapped on her backpack and she is excited about walking in her own country, maybe eventually going all the way to Santiago, who know.
So off she goes. With her food, her backpack and her new shoes, exactly the same shoes as the ones she has just worn out, excited and happy to be on the road again.
Just two kilometres after she sets out her hips start hurting, but that is ok, they have hurt before. Just 12 kilometres to the first albergue today so no sweat, and tomorrow they will be better again. She doesn't meet anyone on the way, not even someone walking their dog, and when she finally arrives warm and thirsty to the albergue there is no one there.
She eats some of her food and feels a bit lonely. She had been hoping to meet new people, but apparently not today. It didn't matter being alone in Spain, that was often a choice, but now with no choice it somehow seems to matter.
The next morning when the alarm goes of she doesn't really feel rested. Her legs are still hurting and she hangs around for a bit, dragging out time, hoping they will get better with a few pills, but they don't. Finally she has no more excuses, drops some money in the box and heads out.
The going is easy but her hips make it hard. The road is empty and the air is cold. She wonders why all this matters now when it didn't matter last time but somehow it does. Her leg gets worse and she breaks often hoping it will go away as it has done before, but it just seems to get worse.
After a few kilometres the pain get so bad she can hardly walk and she starts limping along. She takes out her map to find out where she is, knowing there will be nothing all day, so just really checking. She has not come that far and she wonders how a few weeks ago she could walk 500 km when now she barely able to walk 5.
She starts doing the math. She has walked 5 km in the 2 hours since she set out. She has half a litre of water left and there is 15 kilometres to the next fountain, that is six hours and the day is warming up, getting hot and humid. Even worse there is still 35 kilometres to the next bed, at this speed she will not be able to make it before dark/midnight/they close the door at ten, and the pain is getting worse still.
She has still met no one, talked to no one, greeted no one. The day seems endless the water bottle tiny, the backpack heavy and the pain is becoming almost unbearable. So she does the only thing she can think of, the unthinkable. She gets out her phone, calls her sister, and almost in tears asks her to figure a way home for her.
She quits ! Her ? She ? The one who doesn't even believe in quitting, who thinks less of people not really doing an effort. She who thinks quitters are weak ! Right there and then, she quits, gives up, caves in, calls a friend and asks for help !
Because there is no way she can continue.
When she arrives at the train station in her home town, she almost sits down and weeps because she has to walk another 500 meters to her front door, and it just seems impossible. But of course it isn't.
At first she is relieved to arrive back home, but it doesn't take long before the Camino Blues sets back in and she wonders why this time it was so different. But she knows why. The answer is always the same. It always comes down to the people. Even when she chooses not to be with them she needs them to be there. Without others she is nothing.
And while she tries so hard to hold on to the change, and while she knows that even from a 28 hour Camino there is a lesson, she also knows that the only way to hold on is to let it go.
