It’s four weeks now until I leave for Portugal to walk the Coastal Camino path to Santiago. I’m amazed at how the time has passed since I first made the plan to go on pilgrimage on that ancient path. Since I started my training at the Hunter St Park, we’ve gone through fall, winter, spring, and now the proof of summer is all along my trail. Yesterday, I ate blackberries that were abundant and delighted in the rich colors of the crepe myrtle trees in full bloom.

Part of me is excited that this long-awaited dream is about to come true; part of me is scared and wondering what I’ll encounter along the way. Sometimes at night, I wake up and think of what I have to do before I leave, the remaining items I need to purchase. At times, I feel like I’m running out of time and won’t be ready.

Yesterday, I got a late start on my training session. It was really too hot to be walking, especially in the mid-day heat. I felt the urge to push through because there have been setbacks in the past two weeks. First, I was sick with a Covid-like virus that caused fatigue, fever, and body aches. Then, there was the recovery time, following the health provider’s orders to “Rest for the next three days” and then there was the long July 4th holiday weekend. I felt like I was two weeks behind and realizing I’d be leaving in a month, I had to get back on track.

But my body wouldn’t let me do that; I felt myself becoming overheated at the park and had to stop after only an hour of walking. Back at home, I felt frustrated by my limitations and the weather, my lack of control. After resting for a while, it was time to work on this week’s post. Right when I settled down to write, there was a thunderstorm and our power went out. No internet, nothing but candlelight, no idea how long our service would be out.

Frustrated, I pulled out a book that I’ve been reading to prepare for the Camino.

J.F. Penn’s an author from the U.K. whom I’ve followed on podcasts. Her book includes her experience walking the same Portuguese Coastal Camino path from Porto to Santiago that I’ll be taking. She describes setting out on her first path right after having Covid. She was in a weakened state physically but knew that mentally, and emotionally, she had to get out of the confinement of the pandemic.

Penn is a middle-age woman and describes herself as active and was in good shape before having Covid. Setting out on her first path, in a weakened state, she was acutely aware of her human frailty. She describes the blisters, swollen feet, and aches in her hips from carrying a backpack that was too heavy. She notes that ‘older’ pilgrims– in their sixties and seventies, often chose to have their heavy bags transported. That’ll be me, I thought, and was grateful I’d paid for that service.

She describes being aware of her mortality as a human who struggles through the brief span that is life:

“On each of my three pilgrimages, I encountered places where I was aware of walking through history, where there was a sense of life being but a brief flash of light across the span of time.” (p 103)

Later, she notes this frequent reminder when you encounter the physical strain of walking for great distances on an ancient pilgrimage path:

“Momento mori– Remember, you will die.”

While at first reading, that seems dark, not very “inspiring” in our positive, just-do-it culture, it also puts me wanting to control things in check. While I aim to move forward and accomplish my goals–now in my Camino prep, what I see as setbacks are just life. Accepting these ups and downs are also training me for walking that path. Reading by candlelight about Penn’s struggles on each of the trails, reminded me that I will encounter them as well. Being flexible, accepting my limitations along with challenging myself, are part of the journey, whether on the Camino or at home in North Carolina.

My hope for you is that you’re finding your way along whatever path you’re on, accepting your humanity and finding grace for the journey.

Love and Blessings,

Connie