From the Camino: In my late forties, having been reasonably athletic all my life, I began to put on weight, even though I exercised regularly and energetically. My thyroid had apparently gone on strike. With the extra weight, I soon had a bout of terrible knee problems, which gave way to plantar fasciitis in my feet. It was a hard time, and I began to doubt my physical abilities. In fact, I felt like an old man. By the age of 58, I was overweight, had high cholesterol and age related high blood pressure. I dragged that body, my body, onto my second Camino, from Hendaye France, all the way to Santiago. It wasn’t with a young person’s energy, stamina or resilience. It wasn’t with the speed of youth. It was the body I had at the time I was willing, and when the sabbatical was available. You go with what you have.
The Camino did not solve these problems. It’s not a magical cure for what ails you. I will never forget the relatively short day, walking into Bilbao, when I felt like I couldn’t walk even one more day.
And yet, by no means was I the oldest person on the Camino or the one in the worst shape. I met a trio, two women and a man from the Pacific Northwest, who were probably somewhere 5 to 15 years older than I. I first ran into them, in passing, while leaving Oviedo, and then the next day, caught them passing me, but going the opposite way that I was on the Camino in Grado. It was a funny moment for us before we found a yellow arrow that verified the right direction. I came to know them better over time, as we often coincidentally chose the same town to stop in, the same café for spot of coffee, and the same tapateria to grab a small bite and a glass of wine. I grew quite fond of their good company.
As it turns out, the man, Mike, was a retired adventure travel guide, and had planned with his wife and a friend on taking this adventure together to celebrate his retirement. They made their arrangements and were all set when it became clear that Mike needed back surgery.
So I thought that I had physical problems? After Mike’s surgery, they carried on with their plans, shortening the trip to two weeks, and committing themselves to the doable each day, and no more. That included, at times, taking a taxi to avoid some overly strenuous uphill climbs that Mike found too difficult. It wasn’t what they had originally conceived, but they did the Camino that was possible. I respected them deeply for their good sense and compassionate approach. They didn’t let age or surgery get in their way.
Luke 14:15-23 – “15 One of his fellow guests on hearing this said to him, “Blessed is the one who will dine in the kingdom of God.” 16 He replied to him, “A man gave a great dinner to which he invited many. 17 When the time for the dinner came, he dispatched his servant to say to those invited, ‘Come, everything is now ready.’ 18 But one by one, they all began to excuse themselves. The first said to him, ‘I have purchased a field and must go to examine it; I ask you, consider me excused.’ 19 And another said, ‘I have purchased five yoke of oxen and am on my way to evaluate them; I ask you, consider me excused.’ 20 And another said, ‘I have just married a woman, and therefore I cannot come.’ 21 The servant went and reported this to his master. Then the master of the house in a rage commanded his servant, ‘Go out quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and bring in here the poor and the crippled, the blind and the lame.’ 22 The servant reported, ‘Sir, your orders have been carried out and still there is room.’ 23 The master then ordered the servant, ‘Go out to the highways and hedgerows and make people come in that my home may be filled.’ ”
For reflection: There will always be good reasons not to respond to an invitation, especially to a walking pilgrimage. First among them may be our bodies, and how ill prepared they are for the journey. It’s worth wondering what the journey will do to it. There will be genuine tiredness, probably blisters, chaffing in unmentionable places, thirst and hunger, aggravation in albergues, loneliness and frustration.
So, there is a need for wisdom. Are you up for that much discomfort?
Perhaps, though, there is also a need for whimsy. When, ever, have you done something as unlikely as this, with even the slighted modicum of hope for benefits that be achieved in no other way.
It is possible to be too cautious for our own good. There is a lot of evidence that the pilgrimage will do a lot of good, physically, emotionally and spiritually. In the first place, walking is good for the body, and our ancestors used to do a lot more of it than we modern Americans/Western Europeans. In the second place, the setting aside of our way of life, to consciously embrace our life, becomes a means for shedding all kinds of emotional baggage that we might not even have been aware that we were carrying. In the third place, it is a walk with God, with people made in God’s image, in a place with beauty to keep our minds uplifted to God – and the spirit will be nourished.
The biblical invitation to the feast is, of course a metaphor for much bigger things, for a life lived with God, for an encounter with Jesus, for an eternity among the blessed, and perhaps, for a walk across Spain. You will probably meet someone older than you, in worse shape than you, with bigger physical problems than yours, who is making their own very good way across that same country. It would be a shame to deny yourself the beauty of their example.
