Delphinoula
Veteran Member
- Time of past OR future Camino
- C. PdC 2018 Finisterre Muxía 2018
C.Franconia 2019 C.Algeciras Sevillia 2019
Swabian C. (2020)
I think that’s one of the signs that you are doing everything right.
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Not really a meltdown, but more of a self-pitying thought that lasted all of (maybe) a minute on the meseta under empty skies, 40 plus degree temps, after 30km, and no shade, town, or bar in sight: "What the hell am I doing this for?"
Yeah, that lasted long (like I said, less than a minute), then it was "Oooh, look, shiny thing!"
If one of the peregrinos was holding a cold Estrella Galicia beer and it was in the little plaza there in Los Arcos, it might have been me, lol.I both experienced close to what you might call a meltdown as well as an epiphany. Three years ago, my peregrino friend and I reached Los Arcos after a day’s walk from Estella. While strolling around the center of town, we suddenly found ourselves to be fenced in. Upon enquiring what was up we were told that there was going to be a bull run. Bull run was not something I had been expecting, but before we could escape, the run had already started. We had to endure the event until it was over.
It was a harrowing experience seeing the bull being chased down by a horde of people, both young and middle aged. I could see fear being written all over the face of the bull as it was desperately trying to escape through any possible opening. I could literally see foam oozing out of the mouth of the panic-stricken bull. I was surprised to see that several peregrinos in the crowd were even clapping and cheering for the chasers of the bull. While the bull was eventually able to meander its way out of the immediate center of town, two more bulls showed up and went through a similar experience as the first one.
I had a hard time reconciling myself with the fact that I should be experiencing the torture of an animal while on a spiritual journey. It pained me even more that the same display was played out on even a bigger scale on another Camino town, Pamplona. The agonizing thoughts kept me up most of the night.
The bright side from the first-hand experience in Los Arcos was that having seen the plight of the bull turned me into an ardent advocate for animal welfare and plant-based diet.
Getting bed bugs in my sleeping bag. Nothing a good hot laundromat dryer couldn’t fix.In another thread Dave posted this:
Which got me thinking of the times when I've 'hit the wall.' and how different it feels to walk day after say as opposed to undertaling a shorter, limited duration event like (say) a marathon or triathlon. It's easier to persevere in the latter two, because when it's over, it's over. But the camino has a relentessness that can really wear on you.
On day 2 of one of my early journeys on the Frances I was in a lot of pain from some mysterious foot complaint. So somewhere between Zubiri and Pamplona I just sat down on the verge of the road, and angrily threw my boots off onto the dirt like a 2 year-old having a tantrum. The hissy-fit only lasted a few minutes, then I just felt ridiculous. So I changed my shoes, got up, and just kept walking - and all was well in the end. I learned that day that meltdowns are definitely temporary...
Which didn't stop me several days later from pouring myself into a bar in Atapuerca and just collapsing into self-pity. That day, the weather felt like a combination of a firehose and a wind turbine an I'd had it!
But these moments seem to happen less and less the more the camino 'breaks me in.' Each walk has been different, but meltdowns don't happen so much anymore, if at all. Which is only a blessing that I don't assume to be permanent...
I wonder if I'm the only one. What's your meltdown point, what does it look like, and has it become a moving target?
great post, I remember the day when I was walking pass the Iron Cross, at sunrise a great start to a beautiful day. About 3 hours later, I remember going through this very small town, seemed deserted. then going down this small rocky path, starting from large boulders to small stones. I knew the stones would be tearing up my feet,; I had just recovered from some large blisters from the week before. I was angry, exhausted and sad to say, cussing out load-thinking I deserve better; It seemed like it was never going to end. This day was my worst day, harder then the first day from SJPP. In my mind, I knew there was going to be an end, I really had no justification for feeling that way, and was acting like a spoiled brat, knowing others had it worse then that. Also, somewhat ashamed for my thoughts and cussing out load.
I dunno about nothing being delivered on a silver platter...sounds a bit Puritan and Judeochristian to me. There have been things that have been effortlessly “delivered” to me after prayer, especially on the Camino (Camino angels, etc). Sometimes you’re out thorough the ringer to develop character and sometimes, things just come easyLike...we weren't? Thete's no way of knowing that.
Actually it sounds like lots of prayers were being said and answered: if you pray for strength, likely what you're going to get are the difficult conditions that cause it to develop. Nothing gets delivered on a silver platter...
Nah...haha...I'm definitely neither of these.Puritan and Judeochristian
If one of the peregrinos was holding a cold Estrella Galicia beer and it was in the little plaza there in Los Arcos, it might have been me, lol.I've stayed in that town before during those festivities, and they do it in Puente la Reina as well.
Also, those are not bulls, at least most of them from what I saw. They are young cows and some steers too, I think. I did see them run one young bull that had the classic fighting bull look to it, but it was not very aggressive. If they were to actually let loose real Spanish fighting bulls in that small town it would probably be too hazardous.
Those livestock live to see the sundown, unlike Pamplona where they fight later on. I would guess that mongrel mix of cows and steers in Los Arcos are owned by a local there and they run the same ones every year and by evening they are back in pasture munching on grass.
I believe those type of festivities go back to the 14th or 15th century if I am not mistaken. You should have asked some of the locals about it. I did. In fact there were a couple of locals in the group I was drinking beer with. They were very gracious and informative.Hopefully you're right. Nonetheless I shudder to think that given the trauma that they went through at this small scale event, what their counterparts might be experiencing on much bigger occasions. It's really puzzling to think how one could derive pleasure/enjoyment from the suffering of others.
I would look you up - with Estrella Galicia beer as the pointer - during my next trip through Los Arcos, under a more uplifting circumstance. Best
Ouch.The walk into Cercedilla on day 4 was excruciating, but the mental hit was when I fell for a set of ‘cafe arrows’ which took me off route. The cafe was shut for the winter! I didn’t see the funny side of the situation one little bit.
This reminds me, VN, that last pring, I fell on the Fisherman's route in Portugal. Although not flat on my face, I was thrown forward as I tripped on an embedded rock, slamming me to the ground, hitting my chest hard. I thought I had strained a pectoral muscle and kept feeling pain in certain movements, but was still able to carry my pack each day. After returning home three weeks later and having an xray, I discovered I had two fractured ribs. On top of it, I had a pretty miserable cold for two weeks at the same time...still no meltdown, but I was definately lost my mojo and no longer on my A-game.Ouch.
Yeah, I wouldn't have been laughing either.
May your physio go well!
Those places where expectations are raised, then dashed - these are where it's so easy to go out of balance, especially at the end if the day or when there's pain.
Oddly, the only time I really hurt myself on the camino (falling hard on my face), I was still able to walk 30 km that day and was full of joy. I think it was either endorphins or shock. The next say was much harder.
Hiking 20 k up the 1060 meter Ibaneta pass via the Valcarlos route the first time in 2004 at 65 to the monastery at Roncevalles was one of the most difficult days on the Camino and certainly the most physically exhausting day of my adult life then to date. I was pooped! Although I had hiked throughout the summer in preparation for the trip, nothing had prepared me for such an effort. Beneath a deep blue sky and brilliant sun I gasped and ached while my pack weighed like bricks.
After hiking about 5 hours I finally staggered over the pass into a picnic area filled with a munching mob; they had arrived by bus and cars! Never will I forget the look that one très correct French woman drinking champagne from a crystal flute, no plastic for her, gave me as I trudged past exhausted! ET would have been better received. A kindly couple from Scotland offered me the best ever cup of tea from their thermos. Refreshed I continued on to the monastery, happy that the path was now slightly downhill....Eventually I made it to Santiago walking all the way.
On that first Camino I learned the hard way that this is NOT a walk in the park! For the next nine times what mattered most was to DO IT!
A broken rib is not nice at all.This reminds me, VN, that last pring, I fell on the Fisherman's route in Portugal. Although not flat on my face, I was thrown forward as I tripped on an embedded rock, slamming me to the ground, hitting my chest hard. I thought I had strained a pectoral muscle and kept feeling pain in certain movements, but was still able to carry my pack each day. After returning home three weeks later and having an xray, I discovered I had two fractured ribs. On top of it, I had a pretty miserable cold for two weeks at the same time...still no meltdown, but I was definately lost my mojo and no longer on my A-game.
Ouch! And you cheerfully walked all that way, Chris?I tripped on an embedded rock, slamming me to the ground, hitting my chest hard. I thought I had strained a pectoral muscle and kept feeling pain in certain movements, but was still able to carry my pack each day. After returning home three weeks later and having an xray, I discovered I had two fractured ribs.
Yep, still quite cheerful as the pain wasn't all that bad. I also had a nasty cold at the same time, but still no meltdown...I was in a bit of a funk though for awhile.Ouch! And you cheerfully walked all that way, Chris?
(Well, you were pleny cheerful in Santiago, anyway...)
Wow. You do have a high meltdown threshold!
If you hadn't already planned to do so, spend some time soaking in the pools at one or more of the great hot springs in Ourense.Happy to say “no meltdown points” so far on any Caminos. The three of us might get a bit snitchy with each other, as you do when you get tired and irritable. Maybe it’s our running training that kicks in. With distance running it’s more mental than physical and you can break difficult parts into sections and count it down as you go. Tricking yourself that it’s not that much further (to the top of the mountain, along a boring section of tar, etc...) is useful and also good uplifting music is excellent to be able to disconnect from the fatigue or pain. We only use our music when it is getting to that point as we don’t want to disconnect to everything happening around us when everything is good. I find it easy to autopilot when it starts to get difficult and just think “come on....5 kms is just a parkrun, it’s not that far really” Walking into Ourense tomorrow, hopefully I haven’t jinxed myself and lose the plot somewhere
Zubiri and Pamplona? What a killer stretch. It was terrible. My calves and quads cried. I tool the bus after to recover.In another thread Dave posted this:
Which got me thinking of the times when I've 'hit the wall.' and how different it feels to walk day after say as opposed to undertaling a shorter, limited duration event like (say) a marathon or triathlon. It's easier to persevere in the latter two, because when it's over, it's over. But the camino has a relentessness that can really wear on you.
On day 2 of one of my early journeys on the Frances I was in a lot of pain from some mysterious foot complaint. So somewhere between Zubiri and Pamplona I just sat down on the verge of the road, and angrily threw my boots off onto the dirt like a 2 year-old having a tantrum. The hissy-fit only lasted a few minutes, then I just felt ridiculous. So I changed my shoes, got up, and just kept walking - and all was well in the end. I learned that day that meltdowns are definitely temporary...
Which didn't stop me several days later from pouring myself into a bar in Atapuerca and just collapsing into self-pity. That day, the weather felt like a combination of a firehose and a wind turbine an I'd had it!
But these moments seem to happen less and less the more the camino 'breaks me in.' Each walk has been different, but meltdowns don't happen so much anymore, if at all. Which is only a blessing that I don't assume to be permanent...
I wonder if I'm the only one. What's your meltdown point, what does it look like, and has it become a moving target?
I didn't have a meltdown, but I did have a Bad Attitude Day. Many of the people I'd met at Orisson or a little later were stopping in Burgos and taking the train to Madrid to play a few days. I recall being pouty and thinking.. I wanna go play in Madrid! I had a rest day in Burgos and by the time I was walking I'd talked to myself. "You can walk or you can leave. You do not have an option of walking and whining." And I was ok after that. well.. until I got pneumonia. LOLIn another thread Dave posted this:
Which got me thinking of the times when I've 'hit the wall.' and how different it feels to walk day after say as opposed to undertaling a shorter, limited duration event like (say) a marathon or triathlon. It's easier to persevere in the latter two, because when it's over, it's over. But the camino has a relentessness that can really wear on you.
On day 2 of one of my early journeys on the Frances I was in a lot of pain from some mysterious foot complaint. So somewhere between Zubiri and Pamplona I just sat down on the verge of the road, and angrily threw my boots off onto the dirt like a 2 year-old having a tantrum. The hissy-fit only lasted a few minutes, then I just felt ridiculous. So I changed my shoes, got up, and just kept walking - and all was well in the end. I learned that day that meltdowns are definitely temporary...
Which didn't stop me several days later from pouring myself into a bar in Atapuerca and just collapsing into self-pity. That day, the weather felt like a combination of a firehose and a wind turbine an I'd had it!
But these moments seem to happen less and less the more the camino 'breaks me in.' Each walk has been different, but meltdowns don't happen so much anymore, if at all. Which is only a blessing that I don't assume to be permanent...
I wonder if I'm the only one. What's your meltdown point, what does it look like, and has it become a moving target?
I had a meltdown in O Cebreiro. I think i was on my 20th day and the long uphill hike, running out of daylight...very tired. Several pilgrims had said it was a special, great town. As soon as I saw it i realized it was a 'disneyland' type re-enactment town and very touristy. It was fFoggy, couldn't see 10ft in front of me, and couldn't find the muni Alburgue. I asked at several hotels/restaurants - they all wanted 40euro for a room. At the second one in the middle of a restaurant I lost it and lashed out at the pompous innkeeper... very embarrassing. After 2 hours of going in circles i had to go back and eat crow and shell over 40euros for a tiny room with thin walls, no hot water and a terrible bed. The next morning, i saw the Alburgue 2 blocks away. After that - it was all better: i vowed to 'accept what is given'In another thread Dave posted this:
Which got me thinking of the times when I've 'hit the wall.' and how different it feels to walk day after say as opposed to undertaling a shorter, limited duration event like (say) a marathon or triathlon. It's easier to persevere in the latter two, because when it's over, it's over. But the camino has a relentessness that can really wear on you.
On day 2 of one of my early journeys on the Frances I was in a lot of pain from some mysterious foot complaint. So somewhere between Zubiri and Pamplona I just sat down on the verge of the road, and angrily threw my boots off onto the dirt like a 2 year-old having a tantrum. The hissy-fit only lasted a few minutes, then I just felt ridiculous. So I changed my shoes, got up, and just kept walking - and all was well in the end. I learned that day that meltdowns are definitely temporary...
Which didn't stop me several days later from pouring myself into a bar in Atapuerca and just collapsing into self-pity. That day, the weather felt like a combination of a firehose and a wind turbine an I'd had it!
But these moments seem to happen less and less the more the camino 'breaks me in.' Each walk has been different, but meltdowns don't happen so much anymore, if at all. Which is only a blessing that I don't assume to be permanent...
I wonder if I'm the only one. What's your meltdown point, what does it look like, and has it become a moving target?
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