From the Camino: For the last eight years I’ve had trouble with plantar fasciitis in both feet. I have high arches in my feet, which means my body’s weight falls heavily on the heal, without a lot of additional footprint to spread out the weight. It started when I did some long distance walking with cheap shoes, and resulted in me spending more money on shoes than I ever would have thought possible.
I learned how to stretch, and to work the soles of my feet. I also had inserts made for me by a podiatrist. They helped a lot, and I gradually overcame the condition, though the inserts were uncomfortable. In fact, to be honest, on my first Camino, every step had a painful signature – not terrible – just enough to hold my attention, if I focused on it. I mostly succeeded in tuning it out.
I gradually improved, so that when I did my second, much longer pilgrimage, I walked for days in relative comfort. I noticed though, after four weeks of walking, as I approached Oviedo, that my heals were both beginning to act up again. If I stopped and stretched the problem receded, at least at first. On the day I walked into Oviedo, a somewhat uninteresting walk through uninspired suburbs often found around the big cities, my heal pain became more pronounced and relentless. When I looked at the soles, I was surprised to find how very worn they had become, too much so to protect my feet.
I had already planned to take a rest day, visiting the cathedral in Oviedo and allowing my body to rebuild, so I resolved to take some of that rest time replacing my walking shoes.
Shoe shopping in Spain was comical. The sales personnel would measure my large feet with dismay, quickly determining that there was nothing in their store for me at all, let alone, shoes with a high arch support built in. Eventually I found a department store with a large shoe section and a patient salesman who worked with my broken Spanish. He disappeared for at least fifteen minutes, leaving me wondering if he had despaired, was hiding in the back, and was hoping that I’d get up and leave.
He came out with a pair of electric blue shoes – more on that later – and said, “These are what you need!” As it turns out, he was right. The shoes were wonderful.
Of course, when you are walking with brand new shoes, troubles are likely. The first day of walking with them was only 17 kilometers / 10½ miles to Grado, but I still got a small blister on one of my toes. I dealt with it. The next day’s walk, into Salas, was 19 miles. I got another blister from the new shoes, on the ball of my foot. I dealt with it. It was the next day, walking to Tineo, that everything went utterly amok. Before heading out I had read a description in my guidebook of the muddiness of that route on the best of dry days. But it was raining steadily, so I decided to walk an alternate route right on the highway. Traffic and asphalt are not my first choice, but it seemed the best option for the day. In the rain, my shoes and socks quickly were soaked, and as uncomfortable as you might imagine. The blister on my left foot grew immensely. By the time I got to Tineo, I was a mess, walking weirdly to avoid the pain of my left foot. New shoes can be great…but not while walking long distances to break them in, and certainly not when its wet.
Exod 15:22-25 — Then Moses led Israel forward from the Red Sea, and they marched out to the wilderness of Shur. After traveling for three days through the wilderness without finding water, 23 they arrived at Marah, where they could not drink its water, because it was too bitter. Hence this place was called Marah. 24 As the people grumbled against Moses, saying, “What are we to drink?” 25 he cried out to the Lord, who pointed out to him a piece of wood. When he threw it into the water, the water became fresh.
Reflection: There are many ways the Camino can be difficult. It can be too hot or too cold, too rocky or muddy, too steep, either up or down, too long, and there will always be the soreness of our muscles and the blisters on our feet. In a pilgrimage there is tremendous physical exertion. The body is taxed, sometimes extremely. In those moment, we too can recall the “flesh pots back in Egypt”: the comforts of our homes, etc.
The question in all of this, is “how shall we respond to the difficulty?” These struggles invite us to choose a different response than normal, a reflective response, more than simply an automatic whining or lashing out at the world.
Pilgrimage has its difficulties. Accept that. Your pains are unlikely greater than anyone else’s. But they are real. If they are physical, like blistered feet, be prepared to care for them quickly, bandaging and resting. Other discomforts are more internal than physical and these can often be left behind, and where that is possible, do it. The small aggravations, the selfishness or rudeness of others, the inconvenience, the frustrated plans, the repeated early morning noisiness and the late night drunkenness in the albergues – leave them behind. Don’t nurture the grievance. In the same way that the Camino invites us to independence from our possessions, it suggests freedom from grudges and liberation from resentments. Don’t carry the dark experiences of pilgrimage with you…shake them off like dust on your feet…and carry on.
Can you make it the whole way without complaining? Without ever talking about the pain? Without ever talking about the feet or leg pain? Without ever talking about the heat, the humidity, or the other travelers, with the traffic on the road, or the food? If you can’t make it the whole way, can you commit to moving for longer and yet longer stretches without a gripe?
In my memory of my first walking pilgrimage from Porto to Santiago, the foot pain can be brought back to mind, but it’s not the first place my mind goes. I remember the camaraderie, I remember the times of prayer, I remember the scenery, I think of the joyous entry into Santiago, I remember the intense prayer as I sat there in the Cathedral, I remember the deep sense of connection I had in prayer with my parishioners. May your future memories be as rich. Find the good where you can.